Month: January 2021

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It was reported in the middle of December that the former State Pathologist, Professor John Harbison had died. He was in his 80s and passed away peacefully according to a death notice. That name might not mean much to lots of people and that’s understandable because he had been out of the limelight for many years and kept a low profile.

During my working life though, there wasn’t a single member of An Garda Siochana who wouldn’t have been familiar with him. He was a legend, and everyone had their own story to tell about him.

Professor John Harbison was appointed as the state’s first forensic Pathologist in 1974 and held that position until he retired in 2003. He was instantly recognisable with his full beard, tweed clothes and his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was involved in all the high-profile murder cases during that time and regularly appeared on the news arriving at a murder scene.

Before serving as the first forensic pathologist in the country, he lectured in medical jurisprudence at Trinity College Dublin, and in the early 1990s was appointed professor of forensic medicine and toxicology at the Royal College of Surgeons. He came to the Garda College in Templemore in 1979 to speak to us trainees about the importance of preserving evidence at a crime scene and he was very impressive.

I met him on a few occasions subsequently, and he was a bit of a character. It wasn’t unusual for him to produce a sandwich while performing an autopsy and I know a few gardai who removed themselves from a post-mortem after watching him in action. He took his job seriously though and was always respectful to the dead.

He was also well known for calling a spade a spade and when asked about the bad odour in a morgue he said, “When decomposition begins, things rapidly become very smelly.” They certainly do and that was very true of the old city morgue in White Street in Cork.

It was an old inconspicuous building off Georges Quay, and will be remembered by older and retired members of An Garda Siochana and not in a nice way. It had a large timber sliding door at the front and most people walking by probably didn’t even know that it was the city morgue although they may have had their suspicions at times.

Post-mortem examinations were carried out there, but it wasn’t fit for purpose. It was sadly lacking in the ventilation department and the smell could be very unpleasant, so it was not the place to be if you were of a delicate disposition. I suspect those odours could often be detected by passers-by on the street outside too.

It was no place to bring relatives of deceased persons either which we regularly had to do for the purpose of having a body formally identified. The morgue attendants in those days sometimes bought their own sprays to try and neutralise the air but they weren’t always effective.

Dr. Margaret Bolster, another well-known pathologist, once told me that the best way to combat the odour was to fill your lungs with it. She suggested that instead of trying to fight it, it was better to take a few deep breaths and while the initial effect might not be very pleasant, you didn’t notice it so much after that. She was right but sometimes the smell could linger in your nostrils for days.

That morgue eventually closed in the late nineties and a new, modern facility was developed in the Cork University Hospital. It was a state-of-the-art facility with a viewing area, a waiting room and a prayer room. I think the old place was demolished and replaced with apartments and not a moment too soon either. Post-mortem examinations were difficult enough without having to tolerate dire conditions as well.

Some gardai can go through their entire service without ever having to attend an autopsy but I wasn’t one of them. I went through a period in the nineties when I had to attend five of them in the space of eight weeks. It was just the luck of the draw and while they can be unpleasant, they are an essential part of certain criminal investigations.

The purpose of an autopsy is to determine the cause of death. In cases where someone dies in suspicious, sudden, violent, or unexplained circumstances, the Coroner will authorise a post-mortem examination or autopsy, and then nominates a pathologist to carry out the examination.

Post-mortems provide important information about how, when and why someone died, and they enable pathologists to obtain a better understanding of how death occurred. The findings of the Pathologist are essential for those investigating the death and also to assist the Coroner at the subsequent inquest.

It’s a difficult experience for all involved but an essential process that can play a significant role in bringing an offender to justice. Apart from criminal circumstances, autopsies assist in preventing future natural deaths by identifying causes and providing vital information to medicine.

It’s important therefore that people are trained in this business and bodies are required for that purpose which is why universities are so grateful when remains are donated to them for scientific purposes. Anatomical donation makes a unique contribution to training the next generation of health professionals and scientists.

Noel Baker pointed out in the Irish Examiner recently that senior medics have said a shortage of bodies donated to universities for anatomical work because of Covid-19 raises “significant concerns in terms of the progression of trainees to surgical training”.

That’s not good news because without these generous donations, it will be difficult to replace the likes of John Harbison, Marie Cassidy and Margaret Bolster and we need these people.

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In 1882 William Sheehan was evicted from his farm outside Castletownroche during the Land War and emigrated to New Zealand. Within a few months, there was a gruesome discovery when his former neighbours were cleaning out a disused well and found the decaying remains of William Sheehan’s mother Catherine, his sister Hanna and brother Thomas. The RIC quickly identified William as the main suspect.

He was located in New Zealand and brought back to stand trial for the murders in Cork.  He was found guilty and later claimed he murdered his family because his mother would not allow him to marry the woman of his choosing.

I came across this account of the hanging taken from the Freemans Journal which was published in Waikato Times in New Zealand:  https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT18860313.2.43

It’s a fascinating insight into the final hours of a condemned man written in the language of the time, 1886. The hanging took place in Cork city.

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To-day, Jan 19^th 1886, Wm. Sheehan paid the penalty of the cruel crime of which he was convicted at the last Cork Assizes —the murderer of his mother, brother, and sister, near Castletownroche. The culprit, from the first moment he was charged, acted the hypocrite by indignantly protesting his innocence and threatening dire consequences to his accusers for the inconvenience caused him.

During the trial, and even when sentence of death was passed upon him, he manifested the same thorough insensibility, and apparent absence of any of the feelings of our better nature of which even the moat depraved are not wanting. When he was located in the ” condemned cell ” after sentence had been pronounced, he appeared to be utterly oblivious of his position, remorseless and callous to a degree.

Since then, however, thanks to the benign influence of religion, he was a changed man. The ministration of the prison chaplain reconciled him to his fate, and he faced it in the true spirit of penitence.

Since his removal to the condemned cell, Sheehan took his meals regularly and well, and slept soundly at night. He ate his supper last night in the usual way and retired to bed at ten o’clock. He directed his attendant to wake him at three o’clock, which was done, and from that till half- past six o’clock, when the Rev. Father Barrett visited him, he was engaged in prayer.

The chaplain and the condemned man then proceeded to the chapel, and they continued the devotions. The unhappy man then made his last confession, and the Rev. Father Barrett celebrated the sacrifice of the Mass, at which Sheehan received the Holy Viaticum.

After mass they received the Litanies together, and at a quarter to eight the chapel bell began to peal forth in slow and melancholy measure the death-knell. The sound of the bell, as it was heard in the chapel, was like a summons from the grave, and the victim heaved a long deep sigh as it fell upon his ear.

At six miniutes to eight the chief warder appeared at the chapel door and gave the order to move. The culprit was scarcely able to walk, and he leaned on the left arm of the priest, a warder walking abreast on the left. Then followed the sub-sheriff (Mr Gale), the governor of the gaol (Major Roberto), the deputy governor (Mr Patterson), and three warders. From the chapel to the execution chamber is about forty yards. The scaffold platform is level with the ground outside, so that the first idea which the condemned prisoner receives of the use of the room is when he sees the rope hanging from an iron beam overhead.

The procession having arrived opposite the door of the chamber, the executioner made his appearance, and at once proceeded to pinion the man. This operation was performed with some tediousness, and then the executioner took the place of the warder at the left of the culprit, and they stepped in on the trap. On the route from the chapel to the scaffold, the Rev. Father Barrett recited the Litany, Sheehan pronouncing the responses with a firm voice.

Precisely at eight o’clock the bolt was drawn, and the unhappy man was launched into eternity. Before the trap fell, he, in an audible tone, begged God’s pardon for the murder he had committed. He recited an Act of Contrition, and the chaplain gave his absolution, and then breathed into his ear several pious aspirations such as “Jesus, have mercy on me,” ” God be merciful to me a sinner,” “Holy Mary pray for me.”

The bolt was no sooner drawn than the black flag was hoisted over the battlements of the prison, thus announcing to the group of about fifty persons who had gathered together on the Gaol Road that the law’s stern vengeance had been satisfied.

Berry was the executioner. The drop was fix feet, and death was instantaneous. The body was kept suspended for an hour, and then cut down and removed to an outer yard, where it was viewed by a coroner’s jury previous to its consignment to an unhallowed grave within the precincts of the gaol.

The face, as he lay in the rude coffin, presented the usual appearance of death from strangulation. He wore the same raiment which he wore at the trials. The black flag was hauled down at one o’clock. Sheehan was only thirty-two years of age; his height was 5ft4in, and his weight 1461b.

Thanks to Fin Dwyer for his help with this piece. Finn is a historian and has written about the deaths of the four members of the Sheehan family that began with a dispute over land. The complete stories of Cork’s Castletownroche murders are available in a two-part podcast series ‘A Land to Die For’ by Fin Dwyer.

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I saw a clip from the RTE archives recently that was recorded in 1981 in the garda training centre in Templemore. It’s better known now by the fancy title of the Garda College but back then it wasn’t quite so posh. Anyway, a few of the garda recruits were being interviewed about why they wanted to be gardai and how they were enjoying the training?

They all gave similar answers, and the common denominator was a desire to help their communities. I reckon they would have heard the same answers from us if we were asked those questions when I was there in 1979.

When asked about the possibility of facing danger, they said it was just part of the job. They expected to face difficult situations, but they hoped when that time came, they would be professional and do what needed to be done to protect themselves and their colleagues. Again, we would probably have said the same.

We were trained in basic self-defence and even though we were only armed with a piece of stick, we were confident we could rely on that training to get us through. In truth, we gave it little thought because we were young, fit and capable of minding ourselves. We also had the support of a large organisation behind us and that too gave us confidence.  

The training prepared us well for carrying out the regular functions of a police officer. We learned how to investigate traffic accidents, write reports, prepare files for court. We got the tools we needed to get through the working day and the rest would be picked up from the seasoned guys in the station as we went along.

Our self-defence training concentrated on dealing with physical danger only. In those days there was no other kind, so no consideration was given to the mental health of members and that was nobody’s fault. It just wasn’t recognised as a potential hazard for gardai. It might seem surprising now given the nature of the profession and what we know today but that’s just how it was.

There is a better understanding these days of the trauma that can be experienced by police officers and others in the emergency services. These men and women regularly find themselves in situations that could impact their mental health.

Emergency responders routinely attend scenes involving fatal traffic accidents, cot deaths, suicides, murders, and assaults. Occasionally, the same people visit more than one of those events during the same tour of duty and, until recently, that was considered just part and parcel of a day’s work.

In my day, when we had a tough shift, we went to the pub afterwards and had a few pints with our colleagues. We talked about everything except how we were really feeling because if you mentioned being traumatised, you’d never hear the end of it. Better to keep quiet.

I thought things hadn’t changed much since I retired especially after reading about a survey that was carried out in 2018 on behalf of the Garda Representative Association. It found that more than one in six rank-and-file members of An Garda Síochána may have had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and 27% may be described as “walking wounded” in terms of “distress and impairment in their lives as a result of trauma”.

There were many members who felt traumatised as a direct result of what they had to deal with in the course of their work and they felt there was little understanding and little support available. That led to a call for garda management to tackle the issue as a matter of urgency and according to a recent press release by An Garda Siochana, they’ve done just that.

I read on the garda website that over 5,200 Garda personnel completed a Health Needs Assessment Survey, and the results seem very positive. It found the majority of gardai believe there is a strong sense of camaraderie in An Garda Siochana. That doesn’t surprise me because that was always the case.

What was encouraging though was the range of measures they have already undertaken and the announcement that they plan to continue to support the health and wellbeing of garda personnel. That includes enhancements to the independent 24/7 counselling service and the forthcoming launch of a health and wellbeing app. Psychological supervision and supports have also been put in place for garda personnel.

The survey found that 63% of Gardaí occasionally experience trauma at work and 45% experience high or very high stress levels at work. No surprises there but it was good to see that 70% of Garda personnel feel they can now speak with a supervisor about something causing upset at work.

Another positive sign is that over 70% of members of An Garda Síochána are aware of the organisation’s support services including peer support network, the 24/7 confidential helpline and counselling service and the vast majority of those who have used these support services are happy with them and would recommend them to a colleague.

Garda Commissioner Drew Harris said he wants to create a culture where everyone feels supported and can rely on the support services in their time of need. The results have sent a clear message around mental health and trauma and he said one quote in particular captures the unique challenges faced in policing – ‘this is not a normal job with normal stresses.’

“A key objective of our Health & Wellbeing Strategy is to directly challenge and overcome any stigma and bring about the kind of cultural change where seeking help is seen for the strength that it is and not any kind of weakness.”

That’s very positive, and as someone who is regularly critical of garda management, it’s only fair to give credit when it’s due.

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I have a sneaky admiration for truck drivers. It’s a responsible job and taking those big rigs through small towns and villages across the country is no mean feat. Especially when so many of those roads were originally built for the horse and cart and haven’t improved much since then. Manoeuvring these machines in tight spots is tricky and requires a lot of skill.

Those guys are capable mechanics too because they need to be able to sort out themselves out when trouble comes calling and they’re nowhere near a garage. I say guys but of course there are female truckers too, but the majority are men. They are a tight knit bunch, particularly those driving on the continent.

I had a small experience of that lifestyle back in the nineties when myself and John O’Connor were both serving members of An Garda Siochana in Mayfield. We were involved in Chernobyl related charities at the time and decided to bring a truck full of supplies on a humanitarian aid convoy to Belarus. To do that, we needed a truck and a licence to drive it and we had neither.

The licence was the first step, so we signed up for driving lessons. Our driving instructor was a lovely man blessed with patience. When I met him initially though, I was ready to arrest him under the Mental Treatment Act when on the very first lesson he told me to drive the truck through the city centre.

He knew what he was doing though and after completing the required number of lessons, John and I were deemed ready for the test. We both passed although there was a moment during my test drive when I thought I might have blown it.

We were down around Mahon approaching a small roundabout and a trench had been dug on the left-hand side of the road. There were some large no-parking cones placed along the edge of the trench advising motorists of the hazard. The space was tight, and the truck wasn’t going to navigate the roundabout without touching it with one of the wheels. It was already showing signs of damage from being driven on.

I pointed out my fears to the Driving Tester and he told me not to worry because there was nothing I could do about it so on I went. As I passed the trench, I clipped a cone with one of the rear wheels and sent it in to the trench. In my mirror I saw a worker pop his head up and he didn’t seem very happy. Nothing was said though and I duly passed the test. So did John.

The next item on the agenda was to find a truck and thanks to Peter Dennehy of Dennehy Trucks in Carrigtwohill, we got one. Peter was also involved in charity work and was going on the convoy too. His company offered us the use of a truck for the journey which was very generous of him given that we were two novices although I suspect he may have had second thoughts later on.

John and I went to collect it from their sister company in Limerick and as soon as we sat into it, we discovered a problem. It had a different gear box to the one we were trained in. For those who know even less than I do about trucks, I can tell you that there are two types of gear boxes. One type has a switch on the gear stick and when you hit fifth gear, you flick the switch and that gives you five more gears. That’s known as a five over five and the other one is known as a five by five and has a different switch system.

We were now sitting in a borrowed truck that we were about to drive across Europe, and we couldn’t even get it out of the yard. We couldn’t ask the people in Dennehy’s how to drive it because they would definitely have changed their minds about giving it to us. So, we decided to get it into any gear that would get us out of there and onto the road and then we would regroup once we were out of sight.

Sweating profusely, and praying that nobody was watching us, we stuttered our way out the gate. As soon as we were out of sight, we flagged down a passing trucker and asked him how to select the gears. It was all highly embarrassing.

We eventually got back to Cork and when the truck was loaded, I brought it to an old disused FCA barracks in Cobh where it was to remain until we headed off. While driving it in between two large pillars at the entrance to the barracks, I caught the side of the truck on one of them and got stuck. To get out of that situation, I had to reverse uphill and the strain of that was too much for the poor truck and the drive shaft broke and fell onto the road.

At this stage, the truck was incapable of moving anywhere and was partially blocking the main road. I sent an S.O.S to a friend of mine who hauled it out of harms way with his JCB and then I had to break the news to Peter Dennehy. Peter soon arrived on the scene with his usual smiley head on him and he had the truck as good as new in no time.

We made it to Belarus and back without any more incidents and by the time we got home we were well used to the truck. We could have turned it on a sixpence, but by then I suspect the Dennehy’s were just glad to get us out of it.