22.2.04
Sunday Business Post
**I am posting this story as I found it, with the re-iterations left in.
The Truth Has Yet to 'Out' on Bloody Sunday
By Eamonn MacDermott
As the 919th witness finished his testimony to the Bloody Sunday Inquiry in Derry's Guildhall it marked the end of the oral evidence of the biggest inquiry in British legal history.
When British Prime Minister Tony Blair announced in January 1998 that he was setting up a second inquiry to investigate the deaths of 14 civil rights demonstrators in Derry on January 30, 1972, it was not envisaged that it would be six years before the last witness was heard.
In some ways it was appropriate that the final witness was the man in command of the Provisional IRA on Bloody Sunday, identified only as PIRA 24.
As the inquiry progressed it became fixated on the role of the Provisional IRA, and witnesses found themselves being questioned more about IRA activities than their experiences of that day. PIRA 24, like most of the former IRA members before him, said there were orders not to take any action on Bloody Sunday and those orders were carried out.
The scale of the inquiry was unprecedented, with 426 days of hearings, 919 witnesses, both military and civilian, and a 42-day opening address by counsel for the inquiry Christopher Clarke QC.
But the bare statistics do not tell the full story of an inquiry where ordinary men and women from Derry relived some of the most horrific moments of their lives.
There were moments when the quiet heroism of the people came through. We heard about the courage of young first aid workers struggling to help the dead and injured as bullets flew around them.
There was the extraordinary bravery of Paddy Walsh, who persevered in his attempts to crawl to the aid of mortally wounded Paddy Doherty despite being fired at by British soldiers.
There was the tragedy of Barney McGuigan, who, when he could no longer listen to an injured man pleading for help,went out carrying the universal sign of a non-combatant - a white flag - only to be shot down.
We had Bishop Edward Daly receiving spontaneous applause from the relatives of the dead and injured after his evidence to the inquiry.
We had Soldier F's dramatic admission under cross-examination that he had shot Barney McGuigan, and probably several more of those who died.
In a deeply emotional moment, the inquiry was halted while McGuigan's widow, Bridie, left the hall in tears.
There was the spectacle of the highest echelons of the British establishment, including former prime minister Edward Heath, attempting to explain the then British government's policy towards Irish nationalists, and failing miserably. Heath sheltered pathetically behind claims of a bad memory.
Many of the soldiers also suffered from memory lapses, and were conveniently unable to recall what they did on Bloody Sunday.
And the families of the dead and injured sat there through it all, first in Derry's Guildhall, then in London and finally back in the Guildhall again.
All the time patiently listening to how their loved ones died and quietly hoping that, this time, justice will be done.
Journalist Eamonn McCann perhaps summed up best the approach of the people of Derry to the inquiry.
He said that they are not waiting to hear the truth about Bloody Sunday from Lord Saville. They already know the truth.They are waiting for Lord Saville to reveal that truth to the world.
Among nationalists in Derry, the truth about Bloody Sunday has never been in doubt, because the killings were carried out in front of hundreds of witnesses.
The people do not need a judicial inquiry to tell them what happened; they saw with their own eyes British soldiers firing into an unarmed crowd.
But, as the inquiry draws to a close, many people retain reservations about the manner in which it was conducted.
No one can fault the thoroughness with which it approached its task.
Over 1,700 witness statements were taken and over 900 people gave oral evidence.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of government documents were revealed, and daily we had the legal teams for the families sifting through papers marked "Top Secret".
But it was not so much what was revealed that causes concern, rather what was not revealed.
In an ironic twist, an inquiry set up by one section of the British government was obstructed and blocked by other sections of that same government.
Weapons used on Bloody Sunday were destroyed, despite a direct ruling from the inquiry precluding this.
Over 1,000 photographs taken by British Army and RUC photographers on the day have disappeared without trace.
Continuous and inevitably successful applications by the security services ensured that certain information would not be made public.
This resulted in the ridiculous situation where Sinn Féin leader Martin McGuinness, who was second in command of the IRA in Derry on Bloody Sunday, had to answer allegations contained in one line of a document three pages long, with the rest of the information blacked out.
The inquiry has also been heavily criticised for the manner in which it treated witnesses, especially those who, it is alleged, later became involved in republican activity as a direct result of Bloody Sunday.
There was an over-reliance on the security services' assessments of individuals and situations, because the security services were also a party to the inquiry.
It was also criticised for allowing innuendo, rumours and third and fourth-hand reports as a form of evidence. Two days were set aside to hear from journalists who had not been present on the day but had reported the story third-hand.
For a while it appeared as if anyone with a theory about Bloody Sunday would be given a hearing, while those who were eyewitnesses to the event were in and out of the box in a matter of an hour.
Despite the many obstructions by the British Ministry of Defence, the inquiry only really showed its teeth in the case of two journalists whose evidence would have been helpful to the families.
One sad aspect of the inquiry is the way inwhich it came to be seen by unionists as some sort of nationalist inquiry.
Predictably there was the knee-jerk reaction, with loyalists denouncing the whole affair as a waste of money. But the issues being considered should have transcended sectarian lines.
At the end of the day, this was an inquiry into a state's killing of 14 of its own citizens, an issue that should have concerned anyone interested in democracy and freedom.
Unfortunately, this is not the reality of Northern life.
Lord Saville's final report will not appear until early next year. By then it will have been seven years since the inquiry was set up and 33 years since the events of Bloody Sunday.
Those events remain an open wound for nationalists in Derry. It is unlikely that Lord Saville's findings will close that wound.
When British Prime Minister Tony Blair announced in January 1998 that he was setting up a second inquiry to investigate the deaths of 14 civil rights demonstrators in Derry on January 30, 1972, it was not envisaged that it would be six years before the last witness was heard.
In some ways it was appropriate that the final witness was the man in command of the Provisional IRA on Bloody Sunday, identified only as PIRA 24.
As the inquiry progressed it became fixated on the role of the Provisional IRA, and witnesses found themselves being questioned more about IRA activities than their experiences of that day. PIRA 24, like most of the former IRA members before him, said there were orders not to take any action on Bloody Sunday and those orders were carried out.
The scale of the inquiry was unprecedented, with 426 days of hearings, 919 witnesses, both military and civilian, and a 42-day opening address by counsel for the inquiry Christopher Clarke QC.
But the bare statistics do not tell the full story of an inquiry where ordinary men and women from Derry relived some of the most horrific moments of their lives.
There were moments when the quiet heroism of the people came through. We heard about the courage of young first aid workers struggling to help the dead and injured as bullets flew around them.
There was the extraordinary bravery of Paddy Walsh, who persevered in his attempts to crawl to the aid of mortally wounded Paddy Doherty despite being fired at by British soldiers.
There was the tragedy of Barney McGuigan, who, when he could no longer listen to an injured man pleading for help,went out carrying the universal sign of a non-combatant - a white flag - only to be shot down.
We had Bishop Edward Daly receiving spontaneous applause from the relatives of the dead and injured after his evidence to the inquiry.
We had Soldier F's dramatic admission under cross-examination that he had shot Barney McGuigan, and probably several more of those who died.
In a deeply emotional moment, the inquiry was halted while McGuigan's widow, Bridie, left the hall in tears.
There was the spectacle of the highest echelons of the British establishment, including former prime minister Edward Heath, attempting to explain the then British government's policy towards Irish nationalists, and failing miserably. Heath sheltered pathetically behind claims of a bad memory.
Many of the soldiers also suffered from memory lapses, and were conveniently unable to recall what they did on Bloody Sunday.
And the families of the dead and injured sat there through it all, first in Derry's Guildhall, then in London and finally back in the Guildhall again.
All the time patiently listening to how their loved ones died and quietly hoping that, this time, justice will be done.
Journalist Eamonn McCann perhaps summed up best the approach of the people of Derry to the inquiry.
He said that they are not waiting to hear the truth about Bloody Sunday from Lord Saville. They already know the truth.They are waiting for Lord Saville to reveal that truth to the world.
Among nationalists in Derry, the truth about Bloody Sunday has never been in doubt, because the killings were carried out in front of hundreds of witnesses.
The people do not need a judicial inquiry to tell them what happened; they saw with their own eyes British soldiers firing into an unarmed crowd.
But, as the inquiry draws to a close, many people retain reservations about the manner in which it was conducted.
No one can fault the thoroughness with which it approached its task.
Over 1,700 witness statements were taken and over 900 people gave oral evidence.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of government documents were revealed, and daily we had the legal teams for the families sifting through papers marked "Top Secret".
But it was not so much what was revealed that causes concern, rather what was not revealed.
In an ironic twist, an inquiry set up by one section of the British government was obstructed and blocked by other sections of that same government.
Weapons used on Bloody Sunday were destroyed, despite a direct ruling from the inquiry precluding this.
Over 1,000 photographs taken by British Army and RUC photographers on the day have disappeared without trace.
Continuous and inevitably successful applications by the security services ensured that certain information would not be made public.
This resulted in the ridiculous situation where Sinn Féin leader Martin McGuinness, who was second in command of the IRA in Derry on Bloody Sunday, had to answer allegations contained in one line of a document three pages long, with the rest of the information blacked out.
The inquiry has also been heavily criticised for the manner in which it treated witnesses, especially those who, it is alleged, later became involved in republican activity as a direct result of Bloody Sunday.
There was an over-reliance on the security services' assessments of individuals and situations, because the security services were also a party to the inquiry.
It was also criticised for allowing innuendo, rumours and third and fourth-hand reports as a form of evidence. Two days were set aside to hear from journalists who had not been present on the day but had reported the story third-hand.
For a while it appeared as if anyone with a theory about Bloody Sunday would be given a hearing, while those who were eyewitnesses to the event were in and out of the box in a matter of an hour.
Despite the many obstructions by the British Ministry of Defence, the inquiry only really showed its teeth in the case of two journalists whose evidence would have been helpful to the families.
One sad aspect of the inquiry is the way inwhich it came tobe seen by unionists as some sort of nationalist inquiry.
Predictably there was the knee-jerk reaction, with loyalists denouncing the whole affair as a waste of money. But the issues being considered should have transcended sectarian lines.
At the end of the day, this was an inquiry into a state's killing of 14 of its own citizens, an issue that should have concerned anyone interested in democracy and freedom.
Unfortunately, this is not the reality of Northern life.
Lord Saville's final report will not appear until early next year. By then it will have been seven years since the inquiry was set up and 33 years since the events of Bloody Sunday.
Those events remain an open wound for nationalists in Derry. It is unlikely that Lord Saville's findings will close that wound.
**I am posting this story as I found it, with the re-iterations left in.
The Truth Has Yet to 'Out' on Bloody Sunday
By Eamonn MacDermott
As the 919th witness finished his testimony to the Bloody Sunday Inquiry in Derry's Guildhall it marked the end of the oral evidence of the biggest inquiry in British legal history.
When British Prime Minister Tony Blair announced in January 1998 that he was setting up a second inquiry to investigate the deaths of 14 civil rights demonstrators in Derry on January 30, 1972, it was not envisaged that it would be six years before the last witness was heard.
In some ways it was appropriate that the final witness was the man in command of the Provisional IRA on Bloody Sunday, identified only as PIRA 24.
As the inquiry progressed it became fixated on the role of the Provisional IRA, and witnesses found themselves being questioned more about IRA activities than their experiences of that day. PIRA 24, like most of the former IRA members before him, said there were orders not to take any action on Bloody Sunday and those orders were carried out.
The scale of the inquiry was unprecedented, with 426 days of hearings, 919 witnesses, both military and civilian, and a 42-day opening address by counsel for the inquiry Christopher Clarke QC.
But the bare statistics do not tell the full story of an inquiry where ordinary men and women from Derry relived some of the most horrific moments of their lives.
There were moments when the quiet heroism of the people came through. We heard about the courage of young first aid workers struggling to help the dead and injured as bullets flew around them.
There was the extraordinary bravery of Paddy Walsh, who persevered in his attempts to crawl to the aid of mortally wounded Paddy Doherty despite being fired at by British soldiers.
There was the tragedy of Barney McGuigan, who, when he could no longer listen to an injured man pleading for help,went out carrying the universal sign of a non-combatant - a white flag - only to be shot down.
We had Bishop Edward Daly receiving spontaneous applause from the relatives of the dead and injured after his evidence to the inquiry.
We had Soldier F's dramatic admission under cross-examination that he had shot Barney McGuigan, and probably several more of those who died.
In a deeply emotional moment, the inquiry was halted while McGuigan's widow, Bridie, left the hall in tears.
There was the spectacle of the highest echelons of the British establishment, including former prime minister Edward Heath, attempting to explain the then British government's policy towards Irish nationalists, and failing miserably. Heath sheltered pathetically behind claims of a bad memory.
Many of the soldiers also suffered from memory lapses, and were conveniently unable to recall what they did on Bloody Sunday.
And the families of the dead and injured sat there through it all, first in Derry's Guildhall, then in London and finally back in the Guildhall again.
All the time patiently listening to how their loved ones died and quietly hoping that, this time, justice will be done.
Journalist Eamonn McCann perhaps summed up best the approach of the people of Derry to the inquiry.
He said that they are not waiting to hear the truth about Bloody Sunday from Lord Saville. They already know the truth.They are waiting for Lord Saville to reveal that truth to the world.
Among nationalists in Derry, the truth about Bloody Sunday has never been in doubt, because the killings were carried out in front of hundreds of witnesses.
The people do not need a judicial inquiry to tell them what happened; they saw with their own eyes British soldiers firing into an unarmed crowd.
But, as the inquiry draws to a close, many people retain reservations about the manner in which it was conducted.
No one can fault the thoroughness with which it approached its task.
Over 1,700 witness statements were taken and over 900 people gave oral evidence.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of government documents were revealed, and daily we had the legal teams for the families sifting through papers marked "Top Secret".
But it was not so much what was revealed that causes concern, rather what was not revealed.
In an ironic twist, an inquiry set up by one section of the British government was obstructed and blocked by other sections of that same government.
Weapons used on Bloody Sunday were destroyed, despite a direct ruling from the inquiry precluding this.
Over 1,000 photographs taken by British Army and RUC photographers on the day have disappeared without trace.
Continuous and inevitably successful applications by the security services ensured that certain information would not be made public.
This resulted in the ridiculous situation where Sinn Féin leader Martin McGuinness, who was second in command of the IRA in Derry on Bloody Sunday, had to answer allegations contained in one line of a document three pages long, with the rest of the information blacked out.
The inquiry has also been heavily criticised for the manner in which it treated witnesses, especially those who, it is alleged, later became involved in republican activity as a direct result of Bloody Sunday.
There was an over-reliance on the security services' assessments of individuals and situations, because the security services were also a party to the inquiry.
It was also criticised for allowing innuendo, rumours and third and fourth-hand reports as a form of evidence. Two days were set aside to hear from journalists who had not been present on the day but had reported the story third-hand.
For a while it appeared as if anyone with a theory about Bloody Sunday would be given a hearing, while those who were eyewitnesses to the event were in and out of the box in a matter of an hour.
Despite the many obstructions by the British Ministry of Defence, the inquiry only really showed its teeth in the case of two journalists whose evidence would have been helpful to the families.
One sad aspect of the inquiry is the way inwhich it came to be seen by unionists as some sort of nationalist inquiry.
Predictably there was the knee-jerk reaction, with loyalists denouncing the whole affair as a waste of money. But the issues being considered should have transcended sectarian lines.
At the end of the day, this was an inquiry into a state's killing of 14 of its own citizens, an issue that should have concerned anyone interested in democracy and freedom.
Unfortunately, this is not the reality of Northern life.
Lord Saville's final report will not appear until early next year. By then it will have been seven years since the inquiry was set up and 33 years since the events of Bloody Sunday.
Those events remain an open wound for nationalists in Derry. It is unlikely that Lord Saville's findings will close that wound.
When British Prime Minister Tony Blair announced in January 1998 that he was setting up a second inquiry to investigate the deaths of 14 civil rights demonstrators in Derry on January 30, 1972, it was not envisaged that it would be six years before the last witness was heard.
In some ways it was appropriate that the final witness was the man in command of the Provisional IRA on Bloody Sunday, identified only as PIRA 24.
As the inquiry progressed it became fixated on the role of the Provisional IRA, and witnesses found themselves being questioned more about IRA activities than their experiences of that day. PIRA 24, like most of the former IRA members before him, said there were orders not to take any action on Bloody Sunday and those orders were carried out.
The scale of the inquiry was unprecedented, with 426 days of hearings, 919 witnesses, both military and civilian, and a 42-day opening address by counsel for the inquiry Christopher Clarke QC.
But the bare statistics do not tell the full story of an inquiry where ordinary men and women from Derry relived some of the most horrific moments of their lives.
There were moments when the quiet heroism of the people came through. We heard about the courage of young first aid workers struggling to help the dead and injured as bullets flew around them.
There was the extraordinary bravery of Paddy Walsh, who persevered in his attempts to crawl to the aid of mortally wounded Paddy Doherty despite being fired at by British soldiers.
There was the tragedy of Barney McGuigan, who, when he could no longer listen to an injured man pleading for help,went out carrying the universal sign of a non-combatant - a white flag - only to be shot down.
We had Bishop Edward Daly receiving spontaneous applause from the relatives of the dead and injured after his evidence to the inquiry.
We had Soldier F's dramatic admission under cross-examination that he had shot Barney McGuigan, and probably several more of those who died.
In a deeply emotional moment, the inquiry was halted while McGuigan's widow, Bridie, left the hall in tears.
There was the spectacle of the highest echelons of the British establishment, including former prime minister Edward Heath, attempting to explain the then British government's policy towards Irish nationalists, and failing miserably. Heath sheltered pathetically behind claims of a bad memory.
Many of the soldiers also suffered from memory lapses, and were conveniently unable to recall what they did on Bloody Sunday.
And the families of the dead and injured sat there through it all, first in Derry's Guildhall, then in London and finally back in the Guildhall again.
All the time patiently listening to how their loved ones died and quietly hoping that, this time, justice will be done.
Journalist Eamonn McCann perhaps summed up best the approach of the people of Derry to the inquiry.
He said that they are not waiting to hear the truth about Bloody Sunday from Lord Saville. They already know the truth.They are waiting for Lord Saville to reveal that truth to the world.
Among nationalists in Derry, the truth about Bloody Sunday has never been in doubt, because the killings were carried out in front of hundreds of witnesses.
The people do not need a judicial inquiry to tell them what happened; they saw with their own eyes British soldiers firing into an unarmed crowd.
But, as the inquiry draws to a close, many people retain reservations about the manner in which it was conducted.
No one can fault the thoroughness with which it approached its task.
Over 1,700 witness statements were taken and over 900 people gave oral evidence.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of government documents were revealed, and daily we had the legal teams for the families sifting through papers marked "Top Secret".
But it was not so much what was revealed that causes concern, rather what was not revealed.
In an ironic twist, an inquiry set up by one section of the British government was obstructed and blocked by other sections of that same government.
Weapons used on Bloody Sunday were destroyed, despite a direct ruling from the inquiry precluding this.
Over 1,000 photographs taken by British Army and RUC photographers on the day have disappeared without trace.
Continuous and inevitably successful applications by the security services ensured that certain information would not be made public.
This resulted in the ridiculous situation where Sinn Féin leader Martin McGuinness, who was second in command of the IRA in Derry on Bloody Sunday, had to answer allegations contained in one line of a document three pages long, with the rest of the information blacked out.
The inquiry has also been heavily criticised for the manner in which it treated witnesses, especially those who, it is alleged, later became involved in republican activity as a direct result of Bloody Sunday.
There was an over-reliance on the security services' assessments of individuals and situations, because the security services were also a party to the inquiry.
It was also criticised for allowing innuendo, rumours and third and fourth-hand reports as a form of evidence. Two days were set aside to hear from journalists who had not been present on the day but had reported the story third-hand.
For a while it appeared as if anyone with a theory about Bloody Sunday would be given a hearing, while those who were eyewitnesses to the event were in and out of the box in a matter of an hour.
Despite the many obstructions by the British Ministry of Defence, the inquiry only really showed its teeth in the case of two journalists whose evidence would have been helpful to the families.
One sad aspect of the inquiry is the way inwhich it came tobe seen by unionists as some sort of nationalist inquiry.
Predictably there was the knee-jerk reaction, with loyalists denouncing the whole affair as a waste of money. But the issues being considered should have transcended sectarian lines.
At the end of the day, this was an inquiry into a state's killing of 14 of its own citizens, an issue that should have concerned anyone interested in democracy and freedom.
Unfortunately, this is not the reality of Northern life.
Lord Saville's final report will not appear until early next year. By then it will have been seven years since the inquiry was set up and 33 years since the events of Bloody Sunday.
Those events remain an open wound for nationalists in Derry. It is unlikely that Lord Saville's findings will close that wound.
