by Kevin Fulton
Being in the IRA meant risking your life and liberty practically every day – putting your loved ones through hell. That was what she had been forced to deal with in the past. But this – being exposed as a double agent, or informant, or tout, whatever you want to call it – meant only one thing: certain death. And, no doubt, a grisly, unspeakable one at that.
I had spent the past twenty years in a near-constant state of anxiety, but with my cover blown – and without the safety net of relocation – I would be looking over my shoulder until the day I died, which I have always believed will be sooner rather than later. They will undoubtedly get me. It may sound fatalistic, but that is just the way it is. It might suit the IRA to let me live now, while I’m still a living embarrassment to the British government, spilling details about handlers and the security services and so on. But they’ll get me in the end.
The death threats came from the IRA and RIRA sure enough, but by then I was already on the run in England. A dead man walking. Through a variety of means, I joined forces with others who had worked, at some point in their lives, for army intelligence but who, like me, had been stitched up. Hearing their tales gave me some kind of comfort, but their stories paled and seemed almost insignificant when held up to mine.
I decided that I would go public. I had nothing else to lose. Besides, there was Omagh to think about. What I told my handler about the top Real IRA man I had met was still troubling me. Nothing had been done about it, I was sure of that.
When the stories broke about the intelligence I had given forty-eight hours before Omagh, there was an almighty outcry. They brought worldwide attention. Politicians, police and the security services went into a spin. The victims’ families felt understandable confusion and anger.
I waited for the inevitable backlash, and it came. First in with the boot was RUC chief constable Sir Ronnie Flanagan, who denounced me as a ‘Walter Mitty’ character. He was followed by people in the security services who did everything they could to discredit me, passing me off as a fantasist who at best only ever supplied low-grade information. It didn’t take much to understand why they were so keen to rubbish me. I was damaging them, embarrassing them.
I knew that by speaking out I would make enemies; I knew that plenty of people would be more inclined to believe, in many cases unquestioningly, the likes of Flanagan than me. But there is a saying that I have always followed and it is this: ‘Lord help me keep my big mouth shut until I know what I’m talking about.’ I stick by that. I was telling the truth.
In my darkest moments, and there were more than a few, I sometimes wavered and wondered privately whether I was doing the right thing. I always concluded that there was no other course of action open to me. For all those who tried to dismiss me, there were many, many more who supported me. People in the army, the police and the security services privately urged me to keep going. They know how important it is for the truth to win out. I resolved to plough on and keep talking.
Finally, late in 2001, there was a breakthrough. The police ombudsman in Northern Ireland announced that it would look into my claims and launch an investigation. The RUC was plainly horrified, and saw it as a direct challenge to its power. It felt quickly obliged to scotch any suggestions that it had failed to act properly. No doubt, the security services were aghast too. Inevitably, the ombudsman would be shining light on areas that many would rather remain in darkness, not least the sticky issue of agents and their handlers. However, the relatives of the bomb victims welcomed the development, believing that the allegations were too serious to be left to hang in the air.
Maybe it was the cynic in me, but I suspected that the police ombudsman, Nuala O’Loan, would produce a whitewash. I could not have been more wrong. The report was savage, damning stuff. It was highly critical of senior officers, including Sir Ronnie Flanagan, and of Special Branch for failing to act on information. The report centred on my allegations, but also uncovered a second warning of an attack in Omagh on 15 August, the day of the bombing. It listed a catalogue of serious flaws in the original investigation and recommended the appointment of an independent senior officer to head the bomb probe, and a review of the role of Special Branch.
Mrs O’Loan directed her criticism at Sir Ronnie Flanagan and other senior officers over the ‘defective leadership, poor judgement and lack of urgency’ with the inquiry. ‘As a result of that, the chances of detaining and convicting the Omagh bombers have been significantly reduced,’ she said. ‘There was a terrible atrocity in Omagh on 15 August 1998. We have to look at why that investigation has not been properly conducted. We have established facts which indicated that one of the problems is the fact that intelligence is not disseminated in an appropriate way by Special Branch.’
The report fell short of saying the RUC could have prevented the bombing, but in a reference to the anonymous call received in addition to my tip-off it concluded, ‘It will never be known whether or not the bombing of Omagh could have been prevented if the RUC had taken more action in relation to the information it received during the period between 4 and 15 August 1998.’
I noted with amazement that no record of my meeting with my handler ‘could be found in Special Branch’ despite claims that the information was passed on.
There was something else, something deeply significant. The man I had met was named as ‘A’ in the report which said that the ‘role of A was not fully investigated, despite the alleged telephone call made from A’s mobile phone on the day of the bombing.’
It confirmed my suspicions that he, too, was a double agent.
It was the detail about Omagh in the report and the information I provided that legitimised my case. At least, that’s how I saw it. This is what the report said: ‘Three days before the bombing of Omagh, the RUC also received information from a “reliable” informant known as Kevin Fulton, which indicated that terrorists were about to “move something north over the next few days”.’
It added:
‘If the Fulton intelligence had been considered along with other material held, had been properly assessed and documented, before deciding on no action, then the action of Special Branch might have been defensible. Regrettably, the intelligence was not assessed or considered. A consideration of the intelligence may have resulted in the following action: Fulton could have been instructed by his RUC handler to find out more information, if possible enquiries could have been made by An Garda Siochana to establish whether they had any relevant information. Border surveillance units could have been alerted to take note of the movements of ‘A’ and his vehicle. Some covert policing may have been possible. Kevin Fulton was, and has been, a source of significant information and intelligence in the past. His grading as an informant in and around the time of the Omagh bomb consistently reflects the fact that he was regarded as “reliable”. No evidence has been found to justify the contention that he was regarded by the RUC at the time of the Omagh bomb as unreliable.
Between June 1998 and August 1998 Kevin Fulton was graded as an “A1” by CID. “A1” infers that the source is ‘reliable’ and the information “accurate”.
During this time Special Branch gave Fulton’s information a grading of “B2” which inferred the source is “usually reliable” and the information is “believed accurate”. In July 1997 Kevin Fulton was granted “participating informant” status by the assistant chief constable crime. This means he was authorised by that senior officer to take part in a crime in order to enable the police to prevent a serious crime, or if it did take place, to arrest the principal offenders. Throughout his involvement with the RUC, Fulton received substantial financial rewards from the RUC and from other organisations. The police ombudsman was informed by senior Special Branch officers that on one occasion Fulton provided information which led to the prevention of a very serious attack and “he undoubtedly saved lives”’.
The ombudsman’s report then details the measures taken to discredit me, which began some 18 months after the Omagh bombing. The re
port said:
‘On May 10 2000 Fulton was declared “dangerous” as a CID source, and he was documented as being ‘unreliable’ after articles appeared in newspapers referring to an “RUC mole” and it was thought by Special Branch that Fulton had inspired them. On August 21 2001 Kevin Fulton was described by the head of the Special Branch to the police ombudsman’s office as “an intelligence nuisance”’.
Walter Mitty? An intelligence nuisance? The police ombudsman didn’t seem to think so. And neither did the families of the bomb victims, some of whom I have got to know well. Michael Gallagher, whose son Adrian was killed in the blast, said that, if this was America and I had infiltrated Al Qaeda and not the IRA, I would be a national hero for what I had done. I don’t want to be a national hero, but I gratefully accept the point he was making. He also said this:
‘Sir Ronnie Flanagan called him a Walter Mitty but, when Nuala O’Loan published her report, it emerged that he had been a very credible agent. I noted recently that Tom Kelly, the Downing Street press officer who called the weapons inspector Dr David Kelly a Walter Mitty, was also Tony Blair’s right-hand man at the time of the Omagh bomb.
I found it interesting to note that connection, and that three years ago, when the authorities wanted to discredit Kevin Fulton over Omagh, they called him a Walter Mitty. That’s the tag for anyone who challenges the system.
I also think it is absurd for someone like Ronnie Flanagan or anyone in the security services to say that Kevin Fulton is a liar.
This is a man who survived by telling lies and was trained and asked to do so by the security services.
Yet, to call him a liar now after the internal assessments that I know the ombudsman saw, which verified his standing as a highly reliable intelligence source, is sending a very bad message to other people who may want to work for the security services but see how he has been treated.
The intelligence services do not want to recognise Kevin because that would mean admitting the underhand way in which their system works.’
Others, including the former army intelligence officer Martin Ingram, have since come forward publicly to vouch for me, which has helped my cause immensely. A former RUC officer in Newry has verified my standing as a leading IRA man in the town. The officer – who had no objection to his own background being checked – said, ‘I knew Kevin Fulton and had many, many run-ins with him. I knew him as a leading IRA man in the Newry area in the 1980s and 1990s. But later I discovered he was working for the security services. I couldn’t believe it, to be honest. He moved with the top boys down there and we pulled him in on many occasions. I never suspected at first that he was anything other than an IRA man. He played his role brilliantly. I’ve got to give him that. None of us had any idea whatsoever that he was a British agent.’
The officer said it was around 1993 when he realised that I was working for British intelligence – after an incident in Hillsborough, County Down. ‘A church minister was out walking his dog early one morning in Hillsborough when he saw what he thought was suspicious activity. A man was with another group of men, exchanging something or dropping something off.
‘The minister took down the registration numbers of both vehicles. We recognised one car immediately as being Fulton’s and caught up with him at a petrol station and took him to the Maze search centre. We held him for hours while the matter was looked into.
‘We discovered that there were no details in the computer of the vehicle registration of the other car seen at the secret rendezvous. That could mean only one thing. The car belonged to some branch of the security services. It was obvious he’d been meeting with Special Branch or MI5 or someone. We let Fulton go.
‘A lot of things from the past suddenly started to fall into place. We knew he was up to all sorts in Newry but nothing ever stuck. It was then I knew why – he was an agent.’
In a further twist, one of my handlers is prepared to testify in court on my behalf. He is prepared to become the first army or police handler in the history of the Troubles to break the Official Secrets Act and blow the activities of the undercover services in Ulster wide open.
The ex-handler, who cannot be named for security reasons, praised my ability for working undercover. ‘He was never a Walter Mitty character. He’s a fascinating character, for sure, but he was a valuable agent who took risks to get the information we needed. I feel honour-bound to speak up on his behalf. He saved lives and took risks. I wasn’t surprised to learn about Omagh. The security services missed out on plenty of “results” against terrorism because it failed to act on Fulton’s information.’
But I was particularly touched by what Michael Gallagher said when interviewed by the Belfast Newsletter. He also said he was grateful to me for instigating the ombudsman’s inquiry. We were both battling for justice and our paths had crossed along our respective journeys. We had been able to help each other and that felt good.
Mr Gallagher knew my suspicions and, like me, he wanted to know why the senior IRA man I’d warned my handler about two days prior to the Omagh bombing hadn’t been questioned about Omagh. In January 2002, the matter was raised publicly. Under legal privilege provided by parliament, Jeffrey Donaldson MP named in the House of Commons the Omagh bomb-maker.
He was the man referred to in the police ombudsman’s report as ‘A’.
The man has never publicly replied to this allegation. According to the ombudsman’s report, ‘A’’s mobile phone was also traced to a call to the Real IRA Omagh bomb convoy on its way to the Tyrone town on the day of the atrocity. Yet the RUC chief constable Sir Ronnie Flanagan has publicly and confidently stated that ‘A’ never has and never will be a suspect in the bombing.
Why not? Is it because he was a secret agent? He has never been questioned about the Colleen McMurray murder either. Was he – is he – being protected as I once was?
If that is the case, it is hard to see the families of the bomb victims ever discovering the truth or seeing justice done.
I began what I described as a legal battle to save my life. The Belfast High Court granted me leave to seek a judicial review of the decision by the Northern Ireland Office not to give me protection. Justice Brian Kerr dismissed claims by lawyers acting for the government that some of the grounds on which I was seeking the review were insufficient. At the heart of my case is my contention that I was promised by my British intelligence handlers that I would be taken care of with a new identity and a financial package if my cover was ever blown.
Government barrister Declan Morgan QC tried to argue that the handlers were not properly identified in my legal team’s initial submission to the court.
True. But normal rules didn’t apply in the intelligence world. My team said handlers were often only known by first names which were themselves false.
Justice Kerr said, ‘If a person is told by two Special Branch officers that he is going to be looked after when he stops informing, does that not afford him a legitimate expectation that that will be the case?’
The judge’s decision was a breakthrough, but I have a long way to go and there are plenty of people who want me stopped. I have had my home in London raided and burgled twice. My phone has been bugged. No paperwork exists about my work for the security services.
In the meantime, I am living in London in limbo. I can’t sign on the dole for fear of being traced or killed. The Northern Ireland Office did move me into a flat, but it later sent me a letter saying it had decided that I could live safely in Britain without a new identity. It was just another brush off, another way of washing their hands of me.
If I stay in England, I will have to live under my real name. Kevin Fulton is a pseudonym, a cover name. It provides the thinnest veil of protection. Under my real name, I could easily be tracked down and killed by any one of the terrorists I betrayed over fifteen years. Mind you, as the grisly fate of other IRA enemies has shown us, they can get you anywhere, any time, if they know who you are.
The fact is I’m not suppos
ed to be here. I have no doubt I was supposed to have died years ago, like many other agents. I was close to it, but I saw it coming and got out. How many other agents didn’t get out in time? It is highly unlikely we will ever know.
Last year I found out just how close I came to death. The man who had interrogated me twice over Martindale was uncovered as a double agent. I sensed he was desperate to nail me. His exposure as a tout for the British makes it clear why he wanted me dead.
He knew that outing me as a tout would leave him free to carry on his work without suspicion. The Provisional IRA would be satisfied that the mole within the organisation had been smoked out, leaving him free to carry on his dubious work with impunity. He wanted me dead, and my handlers counted on him killing me. That’s why they wanted me to go back to the third interrogation into the Martindale operation. They knew I had been compromised, and I was of no use to them any more. They counted on him stiffing me, thus saving them from having to honour their promise to me of a new life if it all went wrong.
EPILOGUE
Just weeks after this book was published in June 2006, plain-clothes officers from the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) raided my ‘secret’ address in the UK, the offices of the book’s publisher, John Blake and the homes of the book’s ghost writers, Jim Nally and Ian Gallagher. The PSNI officers – who stated they were investigating unsolved murders referred to in this book – seized documents, audio tapes and computer hard drives from all four addresses.
On 1 November 2006, I was arrested in southern England and flown to Belfast for questioning. I was held for five days. During that time, officers from C2 serious crime unit questioned me 30 times about the unsolved murders of Eoin Morley, British soldier Cyril Smith and RUC officer Colleen McMurray.