There was silence until Gill spoke again.
‘Carmel, let’s see that little pink tongue again …’
She opened her eyes, looked at Gill, did as he asked. He smiled, like he was the one holding her, like she had become his.
‘And. Cut,’ Gill said.
‘You guys, that was amazing.’
Gill walked up to the actors, stood between them, took their hands, and held them overhead while the rest of the class applauded. Then Gill gestured for quiet and spoke.
‘They were brave, these two. That’s the kind of bravery I’m always looking for in actors, people who are willing to step into the unknown, to get in touch with their animal feelings. We can’t deny what’s natural. I truly believe that. But, hey, come on, another round of applause for our actors, and especially for Carmel.’
He turned and spoke to her during the applause. I couldn’t hear, but I saw him mouthing the words ‘amazing, you’re amazing’. And I watched as he took her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it, and kissed it again, all the time looking deep into her eyes. Then he turned and nodded at Stevie, and let go of his hand. He went back to his seat, while Gill walked hand in hand with Carmel to hers. She seemed to grow taller with every step. Whatever doubts she might have had about what had just happened, they were gone.
I sat dumbstruck in my chair, only remembering to clap as the applause was ending. What had I seen? What had we all seen? I looked at the teachers. Many of them seemed uncomfortable, as if they were aware that a line had been crossed. But they weren’t sure. And, for all my concerns about Gill, neither was I. We were privileged to be here, weren’t we? To have this once in a lifetime access? To bear witness to the master at work? And who would dare to question his generosity?
But the scene directed by Gill had come close as made no difference to saying that no means yes, and that consent was irrelevant, a hurdle to be overcome. Was that Gill’s personal philosophy? And yet, most of what had happened, most of what I had found so objectionable, had happened in my own head. My imagination had done the work, as he had planned. There was no denying Gill’s directing talent, but the scene had also given me a close-up of his power over people, his power over me, and that was what sickened me most.
The workshop had moved on to a Q&A, I realised. Most of the questions were of the ‘who’s your favourite/least favourite actor?’ variety, and the atmosphere in the room had lightened again. I checked my watch. We were well over the hour scheduled for the workshop; it had to be coming to an end any minute. He would be gone soon, and I would be able to breathe again.
But before the end of the workshop, Gill showed himself a second time. He announced that they had been a remarkable group. I had been listening – they were nice kids, but he was being excessive in his description of them, and in his thanking of the teachers and the Film Festival for their marvellous work.
A warm fog of self-satisfaction settled over the room. At a nod from Gill, his assistant stood up from his seat. Almost too late, I realised that Gill had been softening us up for something.
‘In fact, you’re so wonderful,’ he said, ‘that I’ve decided I want to keep in touch with you all, let you know how I’m doing, send you a newsletter, details of upcoming internships. And there’s going to be a premiere in Dublin, a little red carpet thing, in a few months so maybe I can meet some of you again there. My assistant will pass a clipboard with a sheet of paper around to all of you and I want you to sign your names, give me your email addresses and phone numbers and we can keep in touch that way. We’ll do a few photos now as well. And of course you can follow me on Twitter, if you’re not already.’
The students fizzed. Their teachers and the festival staff looked puzzled initially, then more sanguine. This was beyond what any of them had expected, but Gill was seeking only the kind of information needed for a mailing list, wasn’t he? And everybody had mailing lists, didn’t they? Even big-time film directors, apparently. So far, so ordinary.
This was it. His entire visit had been leading up to this moment. I got to my feet and started talking, before Boyband had a chance to move, and before I had time to think.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Gill, I’m afraid it won’t be possible for any of the under-18 students to give you their names and contact details without parental permission,’ I said. ‘I’m a board member and a solicitor. Finn Fitzpatrick’s the name, we met last night, briefly, though you may not remember …’
‘I remember you,’ Gill said. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘The festival has rules. What I mean is that it must follow its own guidelines on child safety, and …’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying it’s a matter of trust, parental trust.’
‘Wait a minute, are you saying you don’t trust me?’
‘I’m not saying that.’
‘That’s what I heard. You don’t trust me.’
‘It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s not personal.’
‘Oh come on. What could be more personal? I’ve been all over the world and I’ve never been treated like this, never had my integrity called into question like this. I’ll tell you who I don’t trust, I don’t trust you. You wouldn’t recognise talent if it stripped to its tighty whities and danced a jig in front of you.’
The students erupted with laughter. Alice Chambers got to her feet and tried to intervene, but Gill continued.
‘No, no, wait, let’s hear what the lawyer has to say. Because we all know how trustworthy lawyers are, right? Any of you lawyers?’
‘No,’ the students said.
‘I didn’t think so. And make sure you keep it that way,’ Gill said, and winked. ‘So, what’s this about?’
‘It’s the rules, Mr Gill,’ I said.
‘Do you think anything great was ever made by people who stuck to the rules? Do you think I’d’ve won five (yes, five, not four, not three, five) Oscars, not to mention the BAFTAs and the Golden Globes and the DGAs, if I’d stuck to the fucking rules?’
‘Well, Mr Gill, we stick to the rules around here,’ I said.
One of the students booed, and a couple of others took it up. My right leg started to shake. I leant a hand back on my chair to steady myself.
‘Rules are made to be broken,’ Gill said.
‘Let me explain,’ he added. ‘You see, the reason I came here, the reason I asked the festival to organise this event, is because I knew I’d find talent here. And I did, more than I could ever have hoped for.’
He stretched his arms wide, embracing the circle of students.
‘The film business would keel over and die without new blood. And you, and your rules mean that I’m going to be walking out of here today with no means of contacting any of the bright young people I’ve met here, and bonded with; yes, bonded, it’s true. You know, if I hadn’t had a mentor, I wouldn’t be here today? I got my first break in ads from Billy Thomson, me, a snot-nosed kid from the shittiest flats in the inner city of Dublin, a guy who couldn’t talk proper, even after three years on a grant in UCD, where I never fitted in, by the way. I never fitted in anywhere, until I got into the movies. And, yeah, Cork Film Festival was a big part of that for me, a huge part of my growth as an artist. And, you know, that’s what matters: having someone who believes in you. That’s all I wanted for these kids, these fabulous kids – to listen to them, to care for them, to give them hope.’
He brushed his right hand across his eye, as if wiping away a tear. The girl in the green uniform got up from her seat and offered him a tissue. He took it, said, ‘Thanks, Carmel,’ and continued.
‘But I’ll do what you want, I’ll follow your so-called rules. And I’ll go now, and leave you to your rules – my God, if you had any understanding of the talent in this room, but you don’t, all you people care about is fucking red tape – so, yeah, I’ll go, but you’re not off the hook, Fitzpatrick. These kids deserve an explanation from you. You need to tell them just what’s wrong with Jeremy Gill, an
d with Jeremy Gill what you see is what you get, giving his time to them. You know, the trouble with you people, you fucking bureaucrats, is that you strangle creativity. It’s never “yes you can”, it’s always “no you can’t”. I really thought Cork was better than that. You know, honestly? I think it is better, but there are bad apples everywhere, kids, remember that. It’s up to people like us to fight for what’s right.’
He turned to Alice Chambers. He spoke slowly, and with great control.
‘I will be writing a letter of complaint to the board. And I will be telling them that I will never, as long as I live, visit Cork Film Festival again. Not only that, I won’t let any of my films come here again.’
He nodded at his security guard and made for the door, followed at speed by his assistant. Alice Chambers scurried after them, but Gill stopped her, hands up, shoulder height, both palms facing the room.
‘Damage done. Too late. I’ll send a car to the hotel for my things, but I’m leaving right now. If you knew the opportunities I’ve passed up, if you only knew how hard it was to make time in my schedule so that I could come to this festival. And you know why? Because it means so much to me. But no more. No more. I’m out of this city right now, and you have that, that stupid lawyer bitch to thank for it, I’m sorry about the language, but it’s the only word that truly fits. I know you’ll forgive me, kids, and, hey, meeting you guys, it’s been a blast, a total blast.’
He stood for a moment longer and swallowed. He still had Carmel’s tissue in his hand. Now, his fist closed tightly around it. He looked down but, after a pause, he looked up again, stared straight at me, and shook his head. Then he waved at the students, and left.
After Gill had gone, there was a gasp, a collective intake of breath. Then came uproar. Confusion quickly gave way to anger and, despite his questionable behaviour, it was clear that Gill wasn’t the students’ target. I heard a girl’s voice, one of the students, I didn’t know which one.
‘Lawyer bitch,’ the voice said.
‘Yeah,’ another voice said, male this time.
I knew that I had a choice to make: to go, or stay and fight it out. I decided to stay but, within seconds, I felt a firm hand on my left shoulder. I turned around. It was Alice.
‘A word,’ she said, and walked out of the room.
I followed, and when we were both in the corridor Alice closed the door behind us. I started to talk but she put her index finger to her lips and spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
‘Shhh. I don’t want you to say anything, I just want you gone. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, or what your fucking fixation on Jeremy Gill is, and I don’t want to know. Ever. I heard you talking to him last night, I mean what the fuck was that about? No, don’t answer, I don’t give a flying fuck what it was about, actually. And then I hear you’ve been “borrowing” photographs from the archive. Photos of Jeremy Gill. And fuck knows what else you’ve been doing. All that matters is, you’ve just landed me and the festival in the middle of a shitstorm and, let me tell you, Gill won’t have to write to the board about you, I’ll do it myself. Now get the fuck out of here, Finn Fitzpatrick, and you know what, don’t even think about coming back.’
20
When something unforeseen and previously unimaginable happens, and there are no rulebooks, and no professional guidelines to follow, the best thing to do is nothing. Let the dust settle. See how things pan out. That’s what I tell my clients, and that’s what I was frantically telling myself now. It was time to regroup, take deep breaths, lick wounds, a whole shedful of platitudes and clichés that were easier to dispense than to apply. I felt sick, and sorry too, for the error I’d made in confronting Gill like I had, and for what Alice had said, the shitstorm I had brought on the festival and on her: decent, hard-working Alice. She had always been a good friend to me. It was no wonder she felt angry and hurt and betrayed.
Back in my office, I opened my file and started a note on my conversation with Tiernan, highlighting the names of the convent in Dublin, and of Sister Bernadette. There was no guarantee that either of them were still there but, right after I completed my note on the workshop, I’d try to find out.
A short note it was. Though what had happened at the Firkin Crane had seemed momentous, had been momentous, there was little of substance to say about it, and even less to follow up on. I didn’t even know the real names of Gill’s people, Boyband and Security guy, didn’t know what I’d do with them even if I did. They would never talk to me after this.
And the scene that Gill had directed for the kids and his actions in seeking contact details for a mailing list? Both had looked highly suspect. But with a little distance, half a mile and half an hour since I’d been unceremoniously ejected, I was starting to see that I might have overreacted or, at least, that I could have handled the situation at the workshop differently, handled things differently all along, maybe. I was thinking about what Alice had said, that I had damaged the Film Festival, and her too, because of what looked like an inexplicable obsession with Jeremy Gill. Maybe if I had been less of a lone wolf, if I had sought advice from my boss at the start, if I hadn’t raced headlong into the investigation, if I had thought it through first, maybe that would have been better? To have ended the case before it began?
But, deep down, I didn’t believe any of that. If I was right about Gill, he had to be stopped and it seemed like nobody else was even minimally concerned about him. From what I had seen of his behaviour over the last couple of days, it was extraordinary that nobody had raised queries about him before. How was he getting away with it? In public, he had shown himself to be a bully and a misogynist. But, after it all, I was the one in the stocks, not him. If I believed in conspiracy theories, I might think there was a conspiracy of silence about Gill. At the very least, he seemed to inspire a sort of groupthink. What was it Tiernan had said? ‘That’s just Jeremy.’ No matter what he did, he had people around to explain and excuse him. And that was how Deirdre had felt too, wasn’t it? That she’d never be believed?
I refused to be one of the enablers. I had regrets about the consequences for Alice, and for our friendship. And I was concerned about the festival, about the bad reputation it might develop if Gill started mouthing off about it to other people in the film business. But I had to keep going. The way I saw it, I had no choice.
Just then, there was a knock at my office door. It was Tina.
‘Em, sorry, Finn, I just thought … em … I should tell you … what I mean to say is … em … like, sorry, but do you know you’re trending on Twitter?’
I could hardly bear to look, but I logged into my Twitter account on my desktop. It looked like every one of the students at the workshop had tweeted their disapproval of @Finnfitz and @corkfilmfest, #WTF, #lawyerbitch. And their approval of @JeremyGill, #weluvujezza. Which @JeremyGill had retweeted, #couldntpossiblycomment. Along with 483 of his three million followers. Not a huge number. But enough to get me trending.
I was appalled.
And things were about to get worse.
My desk phone rang.
‘Boardroom. Now,’ Gabriel McGrath said.
21
Pale and skinny, with bobbed brown hair pulled back in a messy half-up, half-down ponytail, and wearing black jeans and a baggy black T-shirt under an ancient GAP hoodie, Sadie O’Riordan didn’t look much like a detective Garda. But she had a brain as sharp as a drawer full of knives. And she had a way of looking a different kind of nondescript every day, though some things were a constant; the disposable work clothes, for one. She never wore anything that couldn’t be torn, or dirtied, or dumped. And she never wore scarves, or jewellery, or anything that could be dragged from her, a tiny silver scar in her left earlobe testament to an elementary error she wouldn’t make again.
After some queuing, we’d managed to snag the booth. The remainder of the place had long tables and benches and the kind of retro/industrial/hipster look that had been unusual in Cork until recently
. Located in what used to be a no man’s land for restaurants, between the city centre and suburbia, Ramen had been full out the door since the day it opened, and had spawned a multitude of imitators, some more successful than others. For a while, every greasy Chinese in the city was rebranding itself as Asian street food, even though Chicken Maryland was still on the menu in a couple of them. I knew. I made a point of checking. And I have no idea what that says about me.
Sadie had had no food since breakfast and attacked her dinner like she hadn’t eaten in a year. I used the time it took for her to eat her starter and main course to tell her about the Carney/Gill case and the afternoon’s events, almost without reply, apart from an occasional grunt. Nothing unusual there. Sadie never spoke until needed, though once she started, she usually had plenty to say. I hadn’t mentioned Davy Keenan, partly because he was off topic, but partly, too, because I had a feeling Sadie wouldn’t approve. She was my best friend. But she was a cop, and Davy’s past was too much of a grey area. I hadn’t mentioned Deirdre’s relationship to me either. I needed to know more about how I felt about her and the whole situation before I told anyone.
‘So, are you suspended?’ Sadie asked. ‘You done with that, by the way?’
She had finished her noodles and was eyeing my green curry.
‘No and no. Oh go on, eat it,’ I said.
I pushed my dinner across the table. I had no appetite, and it was never wise to get between Sadie and food when she was hungry.
‘You’ll be back at work tomorrow so, will you?’ Sadie said.
‘Not exactly.’
‘Go on.’
‘I’m on an unplanned holiday.’
‘Sounds like a suspension to me,’ Sadie said.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But the partners hadn’t a clue what had been happening, didn’t know anything about the case. I argued that I had no control over other people’s social media activity, that trending on Twitter couldn’t be considered misconduct absent any supporting information, that I appreciated that the firm was embarrassed but that fair procedures were required nonetheless and, given that they hadn’t carried out any investigation whatsoever, that they couldn’t suspend me. Not legally, anyway.’
Darkest Truth Page 15