by Rita Harling
I felt quite lonely and the day passed slowly. I spent it playing with Robyn, while the baby slept. However, I was depressed and in pain, a lot of pain. Brian didn’t call once that day to see if we were OK. He didn’t care. Robyn went to bed shortly after seven. I decided to have a beer. Only one turned to two, two to three and three to four, and soon I was intoxicated. I should not have been drinking. I was still on medication. A lot of medication: exactly forty-two tablets a day. I don’t know what I was thinking of. I guess I was lonely and depressed and thought drinking would help me feel better.
When Brian eventually came home I was still feeling upset over his lack of attention, especially as I had made an effort to look good. He told me about the great day that he had. I was slightly jealous of his newfound freedom, so much so that I told him how I felt, which did not go down well. We got in to a heated argument, shouting obscenities at one another. I had forgotten about Brian’s reaction the last time we were in this situation. He didn’t like being confronted. His immediate reaction would be to lash out. And that’s exactly what he did. He punched me and knocked me unconscious. When I came to, he had placed me on the kitchen table and was trying to bring me around.
Robyn still remembers that night. For the second time she had witnessed Brian’s rage. She was terrified. She later told me that Brian was pacing around the house with his head in his hands, frightened and crying. She remembers sitting holding me in her arms. She said Brian was really scared and was frightened that he had killed me. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for Robyn to see me like that. She was only eight — too young to witness something so horrific. Brian called his parents on the phone and they arrived at the cottage shortly afterwards. I don’t know what he told them, as I had been unconscious for some time. However, I believe that they tried to reassure Robyn that her mammy would be OK.
‘Come on, Rita. Don’t do this to me!’ Brian shouted as I lay limp on the table. Robyn says she demanded that they call an ambulance. When it arrived at the cottage, Brian’s mam promised to stay overnight until we had returned from the hospital. Brian continued to try to revive me. He was pleading with me that I could not die on him. I was taken to James Connolly Hospital in Blanchardstown. I was brought to A&E and the doctors and nurses were quick to see to me.
I remember the worry on Brian’s face as the doctors examined me. I also remember the disgusted look a young nurse gave Brian, which made him immediately feel awkward. I knew from the nurse’s facial expression that she was not taken in by Brian’s explanation. When I gave her my most recent medical history she seemed horrified. She stared at Brian and gave him a look, which made him back away from my bedside. The doctor questioned me about how I had hurt my head. I told him that I had banged it against the door after drinking too much. He said that he thought it was a difficult area to harm from a fall as it was aound the temple. He also seemed concerned for my welfare.
I must have been in the hospital until the early hours of the morning before the doctors discharged me and I went home. I never mentioned the attack that night to any other living soul. In a way I think that I pretended that it had never happened. I just wanted to recover from it and forget about it. Even though the Kennys knew about the incident it was never discussed further or ever mentioned again.
The following weeks were hard for me and I was struggling. I was in so much pain and Brian’s beating had added to it. The district nurse was visiting me daily to change my dressings and check on Conor. My GP also called to the house. I never mentioned the violence to her, as I was afraid to and I didn’t think that she would be able to help me in any way, other than offering me counselling. Everyone else seemed concerned for me, everyone except Brian. He had changed so much. I didn’t know him anymore.
The house was like Paddington Station again with the constant flow of people coming and going. Some of them were strangers, others were familiar faces — faces that I didn’t particulary want to see. Brian was stealing from wherever he could and was missing from home quite a lot. Then on 5 February 1998 I received a phone call to say that Brian had been arrested for drug trafficking and was being held in Whitehall garda station. Brian had dealt drugs to an undercover garda, somewhere in Drumcondra. He was followed and intercepted with the rest of the gang in a house in Gracepark, in Whitehall. He was being held with three other men who were also involved. They had been arrested and charged with possessing IR£5,000 (€6,350) worth of heroin. One of his co-accused was his father, Billy. The other two were Peter Kiernan and Peter Joyce. I didn’t know what to do.
The four were charged and they all appeared in court. I think the rest of the Kenny family were in shock at the revelation. I remember Brian’s sister was very worried about what people would think. Brian’s mam was too afraid to attend, so I volunteered. It was July 1999 by the time the case came to the Dublin Circuit Criminal Court. I had never been inside a courtroom before and I was nervous. I watched as the gardaí gave their evidence and I listened to the prosecutor. A five-year suspended sentence was handed down to each of the four. I thought that the sentence was very lenient. However, the judge, Elizabeth Dunne, explained to the court that she thought that they were an unusual group of people to come before the courts on drugs charges, as none of them had any previous convictions.
I thought that Brian would be relieved and grateful for escaping a spell in prison and that he would mend his ways. He did for a time, but within weeks he was back to his old ways. Once again he was stealing from industrial estates, and he also started stealing machinery from nearby businesses. Peter Kiernan had moved on with his life and seemed to be steering clear of trouble. But Brian and Peter Joyce were lifting anything that wasn’t nailed down.
I remember on one occasion they arrived at the house with a mini-digger. Not long after, two gardaí arrived at the house. Brian stood in the garden speaking to them. I could hear them occasionally laugh, which I thought odd. The gardaí left without the digger. These two gardaí would become a familiar sight at the cottage in Kilshane. I think that Brian thought that he had received a passport to organised crime and could do as he liked. He seemed to be in regular contact with them, and things were about to escalate. He was out of control.
Brian, Peter Kiernan and Peter Joyce were all working for Premier Dairies when they were arrested on drugs charges. All three had to resign their positions, which meant that Brian was now unemployed. I remember the newspaper reports at the time depicting them as milk-distributing drug dealers who delivered more than just a pint of milk on their rounds. I also remember the shame and embarrassment that I felt. Now that Brian’s income from the milk round was gone, he would have to find a new way to make money. I knew that he had no intention of getting a regular job.
I was still sick and attending doctors. I had been for further tests as I had been in excruciating pain. The pain would come and go, and would immobilise me when it struck. Conor was about four months old now and he was healthy, thank God. I recall being very ill on one occasion. Anybody that has experienced gallbladder pain will know what I am talking about. It is unbearable. I was curled up in a ball on the living room floor, pleading for Brian to help me. But he just stepped over me and without saying a word left the house by the back door. I was left to battle my pain alone.
My maternity leave had ended, but because of my poor health, I was put on disability benefit as I was unfit to work. I had planned on going back to my job, but my bad health was stopping me. For that reason I resigned. I also did not want to part with my new baby son. I was so glad to at least have my life and my healthy new son that everything else seemed unimportant to me at that time.
Chapter Three
THE END OF THE AFFAIR
One afternoon I was at home when there was a knock at the front door. When I looked out through the front window I could see a man I did not recognise. I went to greet him by the back door and met him half way on the drive. I said hello, and he then explained that he was looking for ‘Brian the milkman
’. He explained that he was a customer of Brian’s and he told me that he owed Brian some money. I offered to give him Brian’s phone number. He took it and then left.
He was gone juat a couple of minutes, when I saw him return to the drive, so I went back out to him. He explained that he was not there because of money and that he thought that I had a right to know that my husband had been screwing around with his wife. I was gobsmacked. He told me that he had spoken to his wife and that she had told him everything. In the time that the man had left and returned to my door, he had called Brian and told him that he was going to tell me about them as I had a right to know. Brian had begged him not too. The man took my phone number and told me that he would have his wife call me later to confirm his story.
When she called, she told me that she hadn’t known that I existed. She and her husband had been apart for a while and had only recently got back together. Brian was causing problems for them. He had called into their house on a few occasions, and she had told him that she was now back together with her husband. From what I could make out from our conversation, the affair had started early during my pregnancy. She had only found out about me when Brian spoke candidly about me and told her that I was on a life support machine. She was horrified and ended the affair.
When Brian arrived I could tell by his face that he wasn’t sure if I had been told anything or if indeed the guy had been at the house at all. I could hear another car pull into the drive. It was Ann, Brian’s mam. Her timing could not have been better. She came in through the back door, and before either of them spoke, I told Ann that I needed a lift somewhere and that Brian would be coming with us. When she asked me where we were going, I told her that Brian would know the address. He looked at me in disbelief and disgust. I was going to make his mam drive to that woman’s house with Brian. Brian’s mam was getting the picture.
When we arrived at the house the couple were not there, but the grandmother was. Brian stayed in the back of the car. I asked the old lady if she knew who the guy in the car was and she acknowledged that it was Brian. And so did the many children that were playing in the garden. Brian’s mam ushered him out of the car. Brian blatantly said that he didn’t know who they were. I just sniggered. I thought it was hilarious that Brian was trying to deny knowing them, especially since both the grandmother and the children had recognised him. Brian’s mam told him that he had been caught out and that he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. We left and went back to the cottage. We argued when we got home and Brian’s mam stood in my defence. Even after everything, Brian carried on denying it.
Brian’s mam often called to the house to see if we were OK, as she adored her new grandson. However, I sometimes found that the Kenny family was around us too much. Some days I felt that their presence could be overpowering. It often felt that it was not a relationship between Brian and me, but more like one that was between me and the Kenny family. After returning from Brian’s mistress’s house and arguing, eventually Brian’s mam went home and Brian left the house at the same time. So, again I was alone. I was hurt and humiliated once again. I was numb and very sad and could not speak.
Brian arrived home that evening, still in denial, but he was apologising. He remained adamant that he had not had any involvement with the woman, even though I had the evidence. When I pointed out that fact to him, he immediately became aggressive and abusive towards me. He began by pulling at my clothing and at my hair. He slapped me around the head and then pushed me onto the sofa. Each time that I tried to get up he pushed me down. That was Brian’s intention — to keep me down. I remember getting up to try to stop him and then I felt his fist in my face. I gave up. I will never forget that night. Once again I had confronted him and he had reacted as he usually did, leaving me with two black eyes and a broken heart.
The following day Brian’s father visited the house. He was shocked when he saw the state I was in. Brian was missing and nowhere to be found. Later that day Brian’s two sisters called to the house and sat in the living room staring at me. I was embarrassed and I cried. They were disgusted with Brian. I remember saying that I wished that I had never come off life support, as my life had become such hell. I don’t remember his sisters asking me about the attacks again. Brian’s violence and the beatings he gave me were never mentioned. Maybe they were in denial and just didn’t want to think about what their brother was doing to me.
I am sure that some people will wonder why on earth I remained with Brian after that. Really I was fighting my own battle with my health, so much so that I couldn’t face another one. I forgave him. I had been sick for so long that I thought that maybe I had forced him into another woman’s arms.
I never would have had Brian down as a womaniser. If indeed he was good at wooing other women, he was good at hiding it from me. I had never seen him flirt or hit on other women in front of me. I later read that as a drug dealer, he would accept sex in exchange for drugs. He really preyed on other people’s misery. On one occasion, Brian had offered an addict drugs in return for sex with one of his young sidekicks, which the young lad declined. It makes me sick now to even think that I once shared a bed with this animal.
Life for me at the cottage was very lonely, even though there was a constant flow of people through the house with Brian’s popularity continuing to grow. I spent most of my evenings enjoying my pastime, which was painting. I loved to buy blank canvasses, oils and acrylics, and let my mind in someway escape this madness. I would spend hours on my creations. I always felt relaxed and at ease when I had finished one. It was my way of switching off and dissociating myself from the situation that I was in.
Brian was becoming more aggressive and violent towards me. I was receiving beatings for no apparent reason — not that there is any valid reason to carry out a beating on any woman. He returned home one day when I was in the kitchen doing some washing. When he came in through the back door, he locked it without saying a word. He grabbed me by the hair and swung me and dragged me around the kitchen. Then he took the metal sweeping brush in his hand and beat me with it until it bent in the middle. I remember that I tried to call my sister on the house phone when he had left the room, but when Brian heard me he pulled it from the wall, removed it from the kitchen and left the house. My sister Mary rang the gardaí, but they never came.
Mary tried her best to encourage me to leave Brian. She despised him and she could see him for what he really was.
That year Brian’s parents moved away from their home on Collin’s Avenue in Whitehall and bought a house in Drogheda, Co. Louth. Brian’s mam felt disgraced by the family’s involvement with drugs, but the disgrace would follow them. Brian was not finished with earning his fortune in whatever way possible.
The Kenny family was closely-knit, and many weekends we would visit them in their new house in Drogheda. Brian seemed to have a way of ruling the roost there. He was the eldest and seemed to have some kind of hold over them. He could always set the mood in the house. Everyone seemed to have to humour him. It seemed like everyone was trying to avoid any trouble or quarrels. He also enjoyed humiliating me and putting me down in front of everyone. There was one quote that he used quite frequently when he was insulting me: ‘I took you out of the gutter and I will put you back in the gutter where I found you.’
Brian thought that he was someone special and that I wasn’t good enough for him. I knew otherwise, and I did not hold his opinion in high regard at that stage. He thought the more money you had, the better a person you were. He had no moral fibre, and respected nothing more than money and wealth. Brian would explore any avenue open to him in his quest for cash. When we visited Brian’s parents we would often go to the Morning Star pub in Drogheda, and enjoy the ceili nights there. I would spend the evening enjoying the dancing and music, while Brian would spend most of the evening on the poker machines at the back of the bar. It was an addictive habit that Brian shared with his father. They won sometimes, but not very often. Sometimes I would accompany Brian t
o another gambling venue off the Drumcondra Road. I also remember Brian bringing Joey to Caesar’s Palace on Doyle’s Corner. Brian gambled quite a lot back then. He would often get quite frustrated and agitated when he lost. He could not enjoy the simpler things in life like art, music or nature, as most people do. For Brian, everything had to have an edge. Gambling was just another way that Brian thought he could make his fortune.
It was now 1999 and Conor was about two years of age. At that time Brian had befriended a young man called Seamus. Seamus was a member of the travelling community. Brian would go out with him and collect copper from anywhere they could. I liked Seamus. He was inoffensive, smart, well dressed and a very good-looking young man. His wife was always with him when he called to the house. They were a very civil and loving couple. Copper was another way for Brian to make money and Seamus was teaching him how to sell it. Whether it was done illegally or not I don’t know.
Things were now really bad between us. Brian would often lock me into the house with the kids. Seamus would sometimes arrive to find Brian not at home. When he saw that I was actually locked into the house, Seamus would stand there in disbelief shaking his head. He would ask me if I needed anything from the shops and so on. Seamus could not get his head around Brian’s actions. I would often give him money through the tiny window and he would gladly go to the garage up the road. I’m sure he wondered why I didn’t smash a window to get out, but he was unaware of the price I would have to pay for doing that. Seamus had no idea that Brian was as violent as he was. I couldn’t smash the window in case the broken glass would have been used on me.