Badfellas

by Paul Williams

  In the meantime the Munster Mafia have continued to prosper. Tommy O’Callaghan and John Dorgan moved their operations to southern Spain; at the time of writing, Dorgan was facing charges for shooting another Irish criminal in the Costa del Sol. At the time of writing Paddy McSweeney it still contesting the Criminal Assets Bureau’s huge tax demand. He has successfully avoided any more conflict with the law. Alan Buckley also still lives in Cork and claims to be ‘retired’.

  18. The Watershed

  The sudden, violent demise of underworld fixer Paddy Shanahan in 1994 caused a lot of headaches. He was laundering money through his building firm for various Godfathers and they now had a problem. One of them was Gerry Hutch, who decided to make up his losses with another major cash injection. On 24 January 1995, the Monk masterminded the daring robbery of £2.8 million from the Brinks-Allied security company’s cash-holding depot in North Dublin. The meticulously planned heist was the result of months of preparation which began two days after Shanahan was whacked. It was the biggest cash robbery in the history of the State – with Hutch breaking his own record from exactly eight years earlier.

  Garda intelligence later reported that the Brinks team included Hutch’s long-standing associates and friends Geoffrey Ennis, Gerry Lee, Willy Scully, Paul Boyle and Noel Murphy. The gang, who were working on inside information, struck just after 5.30 p.m. when the last cash-in-transit van of the day returned to the depot in Clonshaugh. The security van had been left at the depot gates by its Army and Garda escort. As the troops and police drove away, a flare was fired into the air to signal that the coast was clear. In the days before the robbery, the gang had loosened the perimeter fences around the depot. They also bridged ditches which ran through the large area of waste-ground that bordered the complex from the rear.

  The first jeep smashed through the weakened fence just as the last security van drove into the loading bay and the roller-shutter doors were being lowered. The jeep rammed the shutters, pushing them in and upwards and leaving a gap on either side for the raiders to get in. Three armed gang members ran in under the door and fired shots into the air, to threaten the startled staff unloading the cash van. They then began grabbing the cash bags and carrying them to a second jeep that had reversed up to the fence between the warehouse and the cash depot. The gang were finished in less than ten minutes. They jumped into the jeep and drove, in darkness, out through the hole in the fence, across the makeshift bridge and through the adjoining fields.

  Later that night Hutch’s life-long friend Geoffrey Ennis was arrested near his home on the North Strand. A search of his car revealed a number of traffic cones, wet and muddy overalls and boots. He was held for 48 hours and released without charge. In the follow-up investigation Gardaí also discovered that the gang had stolen Paddy Shanahan’s Pajero jeep for the raid. It was as if the Monk saw it as a fitting tribute to his murdered pal.

  Within days, most of the gang members, including Hutch, had brought their families on a luxury holiday to Florida. The heat of the sun was a welcome alternative from the sort of heat they were attracting in Ireland. Inevitably the Brinks-Allied job attracted intense media attention – and created a new criminal celebrity to replace the General. The media revealed that the suspected ringleader was a faceless gangster with the bizarre nickname ‘the Monk’. Gerry Hutch instantly became a household name.

  A year after the heist Hutch gave his only newspaper interview, to journalist Veronica Guerin. Although he flatly denied any involvement in the heist, he told the journalist: ‘The Brinks was a brilliant job. The best of luck to whoever done it.’ Guerin asked Hutch where he got his money. ‘I don’t think it’s your business where I get me money from. The guards know where I got it and they know it’s legal,’ he replied. Hutch also explained his insistence on loyalty among friends and associates which had kept him on the right side of a prison fence. ‘My philosophy in life is simple enough. No betrayal. That means you don’t talk about others; you don’t grass and you never let people down.’

  There was intense embarrassment for the authorities in the wake of the Brinks-Allied robbery when it was revealed that Gardaí had issued internal bulletins, warning that the Monk was planning a big job. There had been a major alert in November 1994, when a member of the gang was spotted watching a security van at the North Side Shopping Centre in Coolock. The Monk and his associates had been placed under surveillance. At the time it was suspected the gang were planning a repeat performance of the Marino Mart job by hitting a cash-in-transit van. Surveillance teams, backed up by the Emergency Response Unit (ERU) and the Serious Crime Squad, had watched the suspects for almost two months. Just before Christmas the operation was scaled down because it seemed the gangsters had abandoned their plans.

  In the farce that followed the only person to face trial in connection with the Brinks job was Irish Independent journalist Liz Allen, who broke the story about the Garda warnings. She was charged under the Official Secrets Act for publishing the bulletins. The journalist and her newspaper were convicted and fined £380 between them.

  On 29 January, Veronica Guerin added to the public outcry when she exposed the fact that Hutch had availed himself of a tax amnesty a few years earlier. Although she had only been working as a journalist for two years, Veronica was already well known as a result of her campaigning newspaper work.

  Shortly before 7 p.m. the following evening there was a knock on the front door of her home. Her husband and son were out at the time and she was getting ready to go to a Sunday Independent staff party. When she answered the door, a man wearing a motorcycle helmet pushed her inside, knocking her to the ground. He produced a handgun and pointed it at Veronica’s head. The thug then lowered the weapon and shot her in the thigh, narrowly missing a major artery. Veronica was hospitalized and underwent surgery. She made a full recovery and courageously vowed to continue her work.

  The incident should have been a warning to the authorities that the underworld was moving to a sinister new level. Instead, malicious rumours were spread by criminals and a few Gardaí and journalists that Veronica had set up the shooting herself. Five months earlier a shot had been fired at the journalist’s home. It was seen as a warning that she was getting too close for comfort but the rumour-mongers also cast doubt over that incident. The reality was that the journalist was lucky to escape with her life on 30 January. She was given armed police protection for a time but asked the Garda authorities to take it off because she felt it was interfering with her work as a crime reporter.

  Inevitably the Monk was the prime suspect for the attack, but investigating Gardaí soon eliminated him from their enquiries. It later emerged that John Traynor had organized both attacks. Even though he was one of the journalist’s main underworld sources, the duplicitous thug wanted to show that he had the ‘bottle’ to shoot the reporter because she had annoyed him. He later bragged that the incident boosted his reputation in the eyes of other gangsters, especially John Gilligan. The Coach purposely timed the attack to take place so that the Monk would be the obvious suspect. Traynor was arrested and questioned about the incident, but there was no evidence linking him with the crime.

  John Gilligan, Traynor and his mob grew more confident and dangerous by the day. They were becoming richer beyond their wildest dreams and were not shy about showing off their new-found wealth. They showed no fear of the law and, for a time at least, it appeared that they were untouchable. Garda units throughout Dublin were making reports to HQ about the lifestyle and property acquisitions of the gang members. It was obvious that the gangsters were rolling in money from the drug trade but there was no focused effort to investigate them.

  There was plenty of evidence that the diminutive thug was becoming increasingly arrogant – and wealthy. In December 1994 Gilligan threatened to have a senior investigator from Her Majesty’s Customs shot after officers in Holyhead seized a parcel containing £76,000 in cash. UK Customs suspected it was the proceeds of crime. The cash was being brought to Belg
ium by a truck driver as part of a drug deal.

  Gilligan rang from Dublin and angrily demanded the return of the money. He claimed he could prove it was from gambling and that it was intended for investment purposes. The case was passed to Roger Wilson of the Customs National Investigation Service in Manchester. By then the police and customs on both sides of the Irish Sea were aware that Gilligan was involved in drug-trafficking. He had been secretly filmed by surveillance officers meeting with criminals in Brighton. Gilligan was not arrested on that occasion because he had not been the main target of the undercover investigation. Roger Wilson decided that the money should be confiscated under UK drug-trafficking legislation.

  When Gilligan heard this he flew into a rage. ‘He’s [Wilson] backed me into a corner … it’s not a problem for me to get someone to shoot him … I’m not goin’ down that road, I just want me money back. But if someone messes with my family I’ll have them fucking shot,’ Gilligan snarled down the phone at a Customs official. The threat against the officer was taken seriously and his superiors subsequently placed him in a special protection programme.

  Gilligan fought the case through the courts and the cash was eventually returned to him by order of Holyhead Magistrates Court. A week after the Holyhead seizure, the Dublin District Court ordered Gardaí to return £47,000 they had taken from Brian Meehan. Gilligan told the court that Meehan was minding the cash for him and that it was the proceeds of his gambling. The State was unable to prove that the money was from drug-dealing.

  At the same time construction had commenced on the magnificent indoor equestrian arena at Jessbrook. In less than two years the Gilligans invested over £1.5 million into the project, which included a luxurious family home next door. Everyone was paid with wads of cash. The mob boss also bought houses and flash cars for his children with his drug money.

  Gardaí monitoring Gilligan’s meteoric rise were increasingly frustrated by an apparent lack of will on the part of management to mount a major investigation into his activities. They had also filed reports to the Revenue and the Department of Social Welfare in the hope that they would investigate abuses of the system by members of his family. His daughter Treacy was receiving lone parent’s and rent allowance, while his son Darren was on the dole, even though he had one bank account containing £80,000.

  The Department of Social Welfare launched an inquiry into Treacy Gilligan, based on the information collected by the Gardaí. When she was quizzed about a new car she claimed it was a present from her father. The officials asked for proof of this and warned that her social welfare money would be cut off if she did not produce the evidence. When Gilligan heard this he was furious. He made several threatening phone calls to the social welfare officer dealing with his daughter’s case. The investigator passed on the Treacy Gilligan file to head office. A note in her social welfare file recorded how Gilligan, described as a ‘very dangerous man’, had made ‘unspecified threats’. A further memo by department officials in the file recorded their decision to ‘drop the subject about the car and continue paying her lone parent’s allowance’.

  The Revenue Commissioners, who were also prompted by Garda reports, wrote to Gilligan asking him to furnish a tax return. The corrupt Godfather wrote the words ‘FUCK OFF’ on the back of the letter and returned it.

  The Gilligans did not hear from the Revenue or the Department of Social Welfare again. The dangerous Godfather had spectacularly exposed the State’s inability to tackle the proceeds of crime. But Gilligan was about to force the State to finally take decisive action against Gangland. The sequence of events which would result in the fight back began when Veronica Guerin took an interest in the good fortune of John Gilligan.

  For several months she had pestered John Traynor to set up an interview for her with Gilligan. The Coach warned that his partner was a very dangerous man and advised her to back off. However, she was determined to put her questions to him in person. On the morning of 14 September, Guerin decided to visit Gilligan at Jessbrook. He was still wearing his silk dressing-gown when he answered the door. ‘Yeah?’ he snarled at Veronica.

  ‘Mr Gilligan?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ he snapped back.

  Veronica explained who she was and said she wanted to ask him some questions about his wealth and the equestrian centre. Gilligan flew into a blood-curdling rage. He lunged at the journalist, punching her about the head and face with his fists. ‘If you write anything about me I’ll fucking kill you, your husband, your fucking son, your family, everybody belonging to you, even your fucking neighbours,’ the psychopath screamed at her.

  Veronica later told Gardaí that Gilligan seemed to be physically carrying her towards her car and pushed her onto the bonnet, while continuously hitting her in the head and body. She thought he was going to kill her. When he let go, Veronica slid, battered and dazed, onto the ground beside her car. Trembling with fear, she struggled to get to her feet. ‘Get to fuck out of here, get off my fucking property,’ Gilligan continued to shout. As she opened the car door Gilligan grabbed her again and shoved her violently into the driver’s seat. He continued spitting obscenities and threats, as she fumbled with her car keys in the panic to get away. Gilligan reached into the car and grabbed her again by the neck. ‘Have you a fucking mike, where’s the fucking wire?’ He tore open Veronica’s cotton shirt and ripped her jacket. ‘I’ll kill you and your whole fucking family if you write anything about me,’ he hissed, slamming the car door shut. ‘Now get to fuck out of here.’ Veronica drove away at speed, leaving Gilligan standing fuming in front of his mansion.

  Later Gilligan went to see Traynor. He was in a rage and said that he was going to have ‘that interfering bitch done, once and for all’. The following day Gilligan rang the journalist. In a calm, menacing tone he warned her: ‘If you do one thing on me, or write about me, I am going to kidnap your son and ride him. I am going to shoot you. Do you understand what I am sayin’? I am going to kidnap your fucking son and ride him, and I am going to fucking shoot you. I will kill you.’

  Veronica made an official complaint to the police and Gilligan was later charged with assault and causing criminal damage to the journalist’s clothing. Gilligan used Traynor to offer the journalist money if she’d drop the charges, but she refused. Based on Gilligan’s previous record and the nature of the attack, he was facing at least six months in prison. The Godfather and his henchmen decided that wasn’t going to happen – Veronica Guerin needed to die. Tony Hickey, who led the investigation into the murder of Veronica Guerin, said the motive was clear-cut. ‘Gilligan had a history throughout his criminal career of intimidating witnesses and he threatened Veronica with dire consequences if she pressed charges against him,’ the retired Assistant Commissioner recalled. ‘If he was out of the picture and in prison for twelve months then his international contacts would dry up. That was the reason for her murder. It was pure greed.’

  From 1995 onwards there was a marked increase in the number of gangland murders taking place on the streets – none of which were being solved. Gilligan and his murderous mob believed the murder of the journalist would just be another unsolved case. Brian Meehan had already killed Michael Crinnion in Cork and then, on 25 November 1995, there were three murders within 24 hours, in what became known as Bloody Friday. In the early hours of the morning Eddie McCabe, a small-time drug-dealer, stopped his car along a road in Tallaght. A single mum called Catherine Brennan had taken a lift with him to the local 24-hour shop. When McCabe got out of his car a gunman appeared and shot him in the head and chest, killing him instantly. Then the killer turned his attention to the innocent woman in the passenger-seat. He didn’t want any witnesses so he shot her in the face. The chief suspect was a close associate of Shavo Hogan and Martin ‘the Viper’ Foley.

  As Gardaí began to investigate the first double gangland murder in the country, another hit man was getting ready to kill. Later that night ticket tout and fraudster Christy Delaney, a former associate of Gilli
gan’s, was shot dead at his home in Finglas. Gardaí believed that the motive for the murder was connected to Delaney’s business dealings with Tommy Savage. He had been involved in collecting and laundering drug money for the INLA thug.

  On 5 December there was a third dramatic gangland shooting. A hit man tried to murder Martin Foley as he left a girlfriend’s flat in Fatima Mansions. But this shooting wasn’t the result of a row about drugs. Foley and another drug-dealer from Crumlin, Brian O’Keefe, were both vying for the affections of the same woman. O’Keefe emerged from the shadows and shot Foley twice. The gunman couldn’t finish off his love rival because Foley kept twisting and spinning around on the ground. When Gardaí arrived on the scene Foley, who was seriously injured, said that the IRA had shot him. But when he discovered that he was going to survive Foley refused to even tell the police his name. Despite injuries to his spleen, the gangster made a remarkable recovery and was back on his feet in weeks. It was the Viper’s second close shave, but it wouldn’t be his last.

  After he’d recovered, Foley and Shavo Hogan started putting pressure on John Traynor for money they reckoned they were owed from the proceeds of the sale of some of the Beit paintings to the UVF. The Viper was told to fuck off, but Traynor decided to do something about his old associate. In the meantime Foley was accused of spreading rumours that the Gilligan gang were involved in heroin dealing. Criminals are notorious gossips and scandalmongers. In the Dublin underworld Foley is considered to be one of the worst. ‘An auld woman with a moustache – and an ugly auld woman at that’, was how one villain described him. When Gilligan’s gang heard about the rumours they decided to finish the job Brian O’Keefe had started.