No Camping
Every year there are more and more itinerants. Every year the apathy of the authorities deepens and the public's hostility grows. By: Maggie O'Kane
Every year there are more and more itinerants. Every year the apathy of the authorities deepens and the public's hostility grows. By: Maggie O'Kane
Maggie O'Kane went to Greenham Common for the fourth anniversary of the decision to deploy cruise missiles.
On January 16, 1983 Dolores Lynch, a former prostitute, her mother and her aunt were burnt to death in a fire at their house. The fire was started by John Cullen, a pimp, who had waited seven years to exact his revenge on Dolores Lynch for going to the police about him. In the garden, while Cullen was setting fire to the house, stood Lyn Madden, Cullen's lover and the woman for whom he pimped. She was also Dolores Lynch's friend.
Over a thousand people sleep in hostels and night shelters in Dublin every night. A hunndred people sleep rough. Mark Brennock's and John McHugh's brief for this article was to live among them for a fortnight. They were given £28 a week - which is what the state would have given them. They invented personal histories which were to sound plauusible. They found a well-populated network of places where the homeless go in Dublin. They tried to follow the complex bureauucracy of the Department of Social Welfare.
In the hottest summer since the Fall of Man Bernard Loughlin went on an Odyssey through Ireland.
There is substantial evidence that a major crime was perpetrated within the Garda Siochana five years ago. The evidence for this crime has certainly been available to senior Gardai ever since then, but no enquiry whatsoever has taken place, let alone any Garda being diciplined in connection with that crime.
Down For The Match
The compartment of the train was divided into three. At one end were the lads; at the other were a number of Gardai who had gone to Cork for the day in order to quell any possible unruliness. The lads at the other end were being unruly. There were maybe ten or twelve of them and they were aged maybe fourteen or sixteen. They had bottles of cider. Every so often and totally in unison they would do a verse of "Roaming In the Gloaming" as though they were around some camp fire.
She was maybe seventeen. Faded denim and a combat jacket. He was an adjacent age and wore similar clothing. Her hips were swaying, shoulders twitching, her left hand working in a little counter-rhythm, drumming on his back. He was bent over, ninety degrees, and vomiting like a one-armed bandit paying off a Jackpot.
Whether or not justice is being done these days, it is certainly not being seen to be done. The “deal” system, in which lawers work out what's best for their clients or most expedient for the legal establishment, has been thrown into the limelight by the MacArthur case and the failure to prosecute for the murder of Donal Dunne.
Some say it's the factory, some say it's not. But the animal deaths, the human illnesses, the rumours continue- and the fears. By Colm Toibin.