Sudden Times

by Dermot Healy

  No. I might have tapped him on the shoulder.

  I see. Tapped him on the shoulder.

  That’s right.

  How much did you have to drink that night?

  A few pints.

  The landlord, Mr Robert Vaynes, says you had in the region of eight or nine pints of Heineken. Is that not correct?

  I can’t remember.

  And that you continued throughout the evening to interrupt the company of Mr Reynolds and Mr MacVeigh. Is that not correct?

  No.

  And then, outside the pub, you lay in wait and attacked Mr Reynolds.

  No.

  That’s what Mr McDonagh says.

  I don’t believe he would say that.

  As does Mr MacVeigh, as does Miss Farrell. You waited outside the pub and you attacked him.

  It’s not true.

  Mr Ewing, why did you attack Mr Reynolds?

  I didn’t attack him.

  Mr Ewing, the court will understand that after the death of your friend you would be upset. Is that not right?

  I was upset.

  So you attacked him.

  I didn’t attack him. I didn’t attack him! You hear me?

  I hear you, but I don’t believe you. You arrive at a pub and make wild accusations to a complete stranger. You wait outside the pub and, though asked to desist, you keep shouting at Mr Reynolds when he emerges with his friends. This is a man you have never met prior to that night! This is a man who has never met or heard of your friend Martin Kilgallon! He is totally innocent of any crime against you or your friend, and yet you grab him by the shoulders and start shouting obscenities. He tells you over and over that he knows nothing about the death of your friend. Then suddenly you launch into a wild attack on him. Is that not so?

  No.

  Did you have any evidence that he was involved in the death of your friend Martin Kilgallon?

  No.

  Do you have any now?

  No.

  Had you ever?

  No.

  Thank you, Mr Ewing. Thank you.

  30

  accepting the job with regret

  Despite having no evidence to back up your assertions, did you continue to believe, after the fracas that night at the Lagoon Bar, July 10th, that Mr Reynolds was involved in the death of Mr Martin Kilgallon?

  I wasn’t sure.

  And yet, when Mr Reynolds offered you employment with his building firm you took it.

  I was in need of a job.

  You took it gladly, didn’t you?

  I took it.

  How could you take a job with this man if you still harboured suspicions about his involvement in the death of Martin Kilgallon?

  I don’t know. I don’t know.

  I think we have two options here, Mr Ewing. I put it to you that either you took that job believing Mr Reynolds to be totally innocent of any connection with the death of Mr Kilgallon, or – and I would listen carefully if I were you – you accepted employment with him in order to exact revenge. Which is it to be?

  He offered me a job. I took it.

  Do you really want me to believe it was as simple as that? Let’s go back a bit shall we? Did you go to that yard knowing Mr Reynolds would be there?

  I suppose I knew he would be there.

  Are there not other places in London where day-labouring can be obtained?

  There are.

  Why did you not go to them?

  It just happened like that.

  Mr Ewing, are you telling the court that all that happened to you is the result of chance?

  Most things in life happen like that.

  Like what?

  Suddenly.

  Do they indeed?

  That’s what I think anyway.

  So you only happened to go to the Lagoon Bar?

  No. I intended to go there.

  I see. But you didn’t intend to go to the yard at Rose Avenue?

  I did, I suppose.

  I thought you just happened to go there?

  That too.

  So you didn’t go there knowing that this was the place where Mr Reynolds hired men for day labouring?

  I found out that.

  Thank you. So you went deliberately seeking work from Mr Reynolds?

  No. Not only from him. From anyone.

  But they didn’t hire you, did they?

  No.

  Only Mr Reynolds offered you employment, isn’t that right?

  Yes.

  So why did you accept employment from Mr Reynolds?

  Why did he offer it to me?

  You have heard, Mr Ewing, what Mr Reynolds said. You were out of work. Your friend had just died. He felt sorry for you. Why did you accept that job? By taking that job you set in motion a series of events which eventually led to the unfortunate night of the party on October 2nd. I ask you again: why did you accept the job?

  I should never have taken it.

  No. You should not have. Your plan went wrong, didn’t it, Mr Ewing? It backfired, didn’t it?

  I had no plan.

  So why did you accept the job?

  I should never have taken it. And …

  And what?

  … he should never have offered it.

  So he’s to blame now, is he?

  No.

  So you agree you should not have taken it?

  I should not have taken it, no.

  Just as you should never have gone to the Lagoon Bar to persecute Mr Reynolds! Just as you should never have held a party to deliberately set up an assault on Mr MacVeigh and Mr Reynolds! There are a lot of things, that with hindsight, you now regret, are there not, Mr Ewing?

  Yes.

  When you accepted that job you deliberately set out on a course of action which led to the death of your brother, is that not right? Would you like to take a break, Mr Ewing?

  No.

  the plan

  So you accept you had a plan?

  No.

  A moment ago you admitted that you had.

  No. I had no plan.

  In other words you had complete faith in Mr Reynolds. Yes?

  I suppose so.

  Well then, will you please explain to the court why you began questioning men in his employment about Mr Reynolds’s personal history.

  I only asked a few questions.

  Did you ask someone – Are there any protection rackets on this job?

  Maybe.

  Did you, Mr Ewing?

  Yes.

  And what were you told?

  That there were none.

  Does that sound like you trusted Mr Reynolds?

  No.

  Did you state to numerous people that you believed Mr Reynolds was involved in the death of your friend Mr Martin Kilgallon. Did you, Mr Ewing?

  I don’t remember saying that.

  So what did you say?

  I can’t remember.

  And did Mr Reynolds not challenge you as regards these stories?

  He did.

  And yet you persisted.

  No.

  So I put it to you that when you accepted this job, which Mr Reynolds so generously offered you, you had already thought out a plan of action to wreak havoc with his life.

  No.

  And the worst thing is – you have succeeded.

  I don’t know what you mean.

  Are you aware that Mr Reynolds’s business has folded?

  No. I was not aware.

  Are you aware of what this court case and the newspaper reports and your accusations have done to his life?

  No.

  And all because of you, Mr Ewing. From the day you met him, you have stalked Mr Reynolds. You assault him, you spread rumours about him, you invite him to a party and then a crowd of your friends, including yourself, set upon him. You hold a friend of his against her will in your apartment. You insinuate again, in this court, that Mr Reynolds is behind the death of your friend Mr Kilgallon. Witnesses in this trial have stated that you implied t
hat Mr Reynolds incited Mr MacVeigh to do what he did. Isn’t this what you’ve done, Mr Ewing? Hm?

  Redmond

  Your brother also received employment through the good offices of Mr Reynolds. Is that not so?

  Yes.

  If you believed that Mr Reynolds was involved in so-called protection rackets why would you expose your brother to such an enterprise?

  It was a mistake.

  It certainly was. Another of your regrets?

  I regret it.

  And why, Mr Ewing, did you encourage your brother to seek work with Mr Reynolds?

  I didn’t encourage him.

  But you brought your brother to the yard at Rose Avenue?

  Yes. I should never have done it.

  And you introduced him to Mr MacVeigh?

  In a way.

  And he hired the deceased because he was your brother?

  Yes.

  He was glad of the job?

  Yes.

  And so were you?

  Yes.

  And all the time you and your brother were conniving and plotting to bring about the downfall of John Reynolds.

  No. We never spoke of it.

  Never, Mr Ewing? Did you say never?

  I did.

  Tell me this. Would your brother have known Martin Kilgallon?

  He would have a’ course.

  Because Mr Kilgallon was a neighbour of yours back in Eire.

  Yes.

  In fact, he would have known him very well.

  He would have.

  And he had heard of his death?

  Yes.

  He was upset by the death, I’m sure.

  He was.

  And then you introduce your brother Redmond Ewing into the employment of a man you suspected of being involved in the death of your friend Mr Kilgallon and never mentioned your reservations.

  I suppose I did. In a way.

  Thank you. And what do you think your brother Redmond Ewing would have made of such insinuations?

  I don’t know.

  I think you do, Mr Ewing. Sadly, I think you know only too well.

  lies

  Why did you invite Mr Reynolds to your home?

  To go to a party.

  I know that. But why?

  It just happened.

  Did you and Mr Reynolds have a discussion in which he asked you whether you – I quote – held anything against him?

  We might have.

  And did you say – I quote – you held nothing against him?

  I think so.

  Did you say you trusted him?

  I don’t know.

  Did you or didn’t you?

  I did.

  And all the time you didn’t?

  Yes.

  So you lied?

  I did.

  You invited him to the party?

  Yes.

  And he accepted?

  Yes.

  Would he have gone, do you think, if you had not told him you trusted him?

  I suppose he wouldn’t.

  So you lied to get him to go?

  No. I invited him because I was afraid of him.

  Are you telling the court that you invited a man who you were afraid of to a party in your house?

  Yes.

  But why invite him?

  I don’t know.

  Was there any reason to invite him?

  No.

  Did Mr Reynolds threaten you in any way? Did he say for instance I want to go to this party?

  No.

  In fact, you brought it up?

  Yes. I was on the spot. I was trying to make up to him for giving the wrong address.

  So you invited him because you had lied to him?

  I suppose so.

  And then, when he asked you did you trust him, you lied to him again?

  Yes.

  Have I got that right?

  Yes.

  Very good, Mr Ewing. We are getting somewhere at last.

  31

  the Irish

  How many people attended this party, Mr Ewing?

  About sixteen.

  Mostly Irish friends of yours?

  There were about seven, maybe eight people, who weren’t Irish.

  But the majority were Irish?

  No. It was about even.

  But counting yourself and your brother, the deceased, Redmond Ewing?

  We were in the majority until Silver John and Scots Bob arrived.

  I see. So what was the purpose of the party?

  There was none really. Maybe to celebrate Redmond coming to England.

  I see. There was plenty of alcohol I take it?

  Yes. And plenty to eat.

  Indeed. Did you mention to your friends that Mr Reynolds, your employer, and Mr MacVeigh were coming to the party?

  I might have mentioned that Silver John was –

  Mr Reynolds?

  I might have mentioned that Mr Reynolds was coming. I wouldn’t have known who he was bringing with him.

  Your friends who you invited would have known Martin Kilgallon?

  Yes.

  They would have known him very well?

  Yes.

  And did you tell them that you suspected Mr Reynolds was involved in his death? I ask you again, Mr Ewing, did you tell them that you believed Mr Reynolds was involved in Martin KilgalIon’s death?

  No.

  La Loo

  Your name is Larry Loonan?

  Yes, said La Loo

  And you attended the party on the night in question?

  I did.

  You reside in Luton.

  I’m studying there.

  Who contacted you?

  Ollie Ewing.

  And did he say what the party was for?

  No. He just said there was a party.

  He didn’t say he needed your help with something?

  No, he didn’t.

  And you came all that way for a small party?

  I came for the crack.

  What do you mean by crack?

  The fun.

  I see. It was some fun wasn’t it, Mr Loonan?

  It was not funny, sir.

  And what time did you arrive in Olive Street?

  Some time in the late afternoon. I had a pint at the station and looked into the bookies.

  And when you arrived at the flat in Olive Street what happened?

  Well, the boys were knocking together a bit of grub with the help of the ladies.

  Then what happened?

  We went across to the pub.

  So you sat around drinking?

  And talking.

  And what were you discussing?

  Jobs, work, study, Sligo, all kinds of things.

  Nothing else?

  No.

  Did Mr Ewing discuss the possibility that there might be trouble later on and that he wanted you to be ready for it?

  No.

  Did he mention that he had asked his employer, Mr Reynolds, to the party?

  He did.

  And what did he say about him?

  He said he didn’t think he’d turn up.

  And were you surprised at that?

  No. He didn’t know him that well, I took it.

  Did he at any stage allege that Mr Reynolds might have been involved in the death of your friend Mr Kilgallon?

  No.

  Let’s put it another way. Why do you think Oliver Ewing said he didn’t expect Mr Reynolds to attend?

  I don’t know.

  Did he ask you to be wary of Mr Reynolds?

  No.

  Are you telling the court that Mr Ewing never alluded to his suspicions?

  No. He never did.

  Did you have any knowledge prior to the party that Mr Ewing suspected Mr Reynolds was involved in the death of Martin Kilgallon?

  No.

  You’re certain?

  Yes.

  Thank you. Just one final question. When you physically ejected Mr Reynolds and Mr MacVeigh, did you not
verbally abuse them about their involvement in the death of your friend Mr Kilgallon?

  There were things said.

  Things?

  Yes.

  By you?

  Yes.

  So by then you knew of Mr Ewing’s suspicions, didn’t you? That he believed that Mr Reynolds had somehow being connected to the death –

  He didn’t believe that, he only suspected that. He didn’t really believe it.

  He suspected?

  Yes.

  But he didn’t believe it?

  No, he didn’t.

  I see. Again the barrister looked towards the door where someone had entered the courtroom. Slowly he turned to La Loo. How did you know that?

  Know what?

  That he didn’t believe but only suspected? How did you know?

  I heard it.

  But you’ve just said you were not told in the pub.

  I learnt it later.

  So you later learnt that Mr Ewing suspected Mr Reynolds of being involved in the death of Martin Kilgallon?

  Yes.

  When?

  I learnt it at the party.

  Ah, so Mr Ewing, the brother of the deceased, told you at the party?

  No. Ollie never mentioned it.

  I repeat – Mr Oliver Ewing told you, isn’t that right?

  No.

  Remember you are on oath, Mr Loonan. I put it to you that Mr Ewing told you of his suspicions.

  No.

  That he warned you and the others to be ready to attack Mr Reynolds.

  No he didn’t, he never did.

  You have already agreed that you knew of his suspicions as regards his employer.

  That’s right.

  So, Mr Loonan, it’s obvious to the court that Mr Oliver Ewing told you.

  No, he didn’t.

  Mr Loonan. Who else but Mr Ewing could tell you of the suspicions he had?

  He didn’t tell me.

  Your honour, it’s obvious to me that Mr Oliver Ewing told the witness of his suspicions.

  Mr Loonan?

  Yes, your honour.

  You say Mr Oliver Ewing did not impart to you his suspicions of Mr Reynolds.

  No, he did not.

  But you have already agreed that you later knew of his suspicions at the party.

  That’s right.

  But he didn’t tell you?

  No.

  Then how did you come by this knowledge?

  I was told.

  Who told you?

  Redmond. Redmond told me.

  Redmond Ewing?

  Yes.