Badfellas

by Paul Williams

  What Mikey didn’t tell the press was that his associate had visited O’Gorman’s brother Paul in Manchester, and had left him on a life-support machine. Subsequent criminal charges against the man were dropped, after Mikey visited Paul O’Gorman’s girlfriend and reminded her that she had vulnerable children. Paul O’Gorman later signed an affidavit stating that he had not been attacked.

  But the media began looking behind Kelly’s façade of respectability and asked some awkward questions. A special Primetime investigation was broadcast in September 1995, in which the O’Gormans told their story. Mikey denied that he had done anything wrong and threatened to sue RTÉ, but never proceeded with the case.

  Two months later he was back in the sights of the local Gardaí. This time Kelly was paid to force a man to leave Limerick, following a custody row over a child. The victim was abducted by two of Kelly’s henchmen, Pat Nash and Alan Wallace, when he refused to go quietly. They slashed his face with a knife and pistol-whipped him. But the man went to the police and both Nash and Wallace were arrested and charged. They were later convicted and jailed. Tony Reynolds, the man who had hired Kelly in the first place, was given a suspended sentence and ordered to pay the victim £12,000 in compensation. Mikey Kelly was also arrested, but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence with which to charge him.

  Irrespective of the Primetime programme, the local media continued to lap up everything Mikey had to say, and he gave them plenty of juicy copy. The self-styled Godfather used a mixture of lies, malicious allegations and legal actions to protect himself. And behind the scenes people were intimidated and beaten. One associate went missing – Gardaí believe Kelly had him murdered and buried in the foundations of a house. When anyone dared to question Kelly’s scams and lies he ran to the media, claiming a ‘vendetta against the peacemaking Kelly family’. For the benefit of the emerging crime gangs in the city, he stepped up his campaign to undermine the police. He even announced in the local newspapers and on radio that he was setting up a private police force in Southill because the Gardaí were not doing their jobs. At the time Kelly claimed his ‘patrols’ had logged over 4,700 calls for police assistance which weren’t answered. But following an independent investigation it was found there was no evidence that the calls had been made.

  Mikey’s signature approach was to make outrageous allegations to the local media against local politicians, businesspeople and police officers who crossed him or his family. There would be no evidence to back up his claims, which he would drop once the seed of doubt was sown. In one case, he presented an anonymous boy to a number of journalists with a chilling story about how he and other boys had been paid for sex by a number of well-known local politicians. Kelly promised the nation that the case would be brought before the courts because the boys concerned were under his ‘protection’. He then called for the resignations of two politicians. But the case disappeared and so did the youngster, amid claims that it was all made up by Kelly to gain power, gangland-style, in the council chambers. Despite this, his charade paid off and he was elected to the city council in 1999. He topped the poll, becoming an alderman. From then on he always referred to himself as Alderman Michael Kelly. Kelly’s next ambition was to seek election to the Dáil. Organized crime had won a major victory in Limerick.

  At the end of the decade, the four sons of traveller Kenneth Dundon returned to Limerick after spending much of their lives in England. Dundon had married Anne McCarthy from Prospect, a working-class ghetto on the southern side of the city, and had moved to London. Dundon was an extremely violent man and a role model to his kids. Wayne, Dessie, Gerard and John Dundon were violent savages like their father – and the last people Limerick needed.

  Wayne Dundon was a particularly dangerous thug who loved inflicting pain and fear. He once beat his mother so badly that she was hospitalized for three weeks. When he was 18 years old he was jailed for a series of robberies from elderly people in London. During one burglary he savagely beat up a wheelchair-bound pensioner.

  When they returned, the brothers teamed up with their equally violent cousins, the McCarthys, including Larry Junior, James and Anthony. This was the genesis of the McCarthy/Dundon gang, Murder Inc. As a group they were notorious for double- and even treble-crossing associates and fellow gang members. Loyalty was alien to these thugs and their treachery was so notorious that they were called ‘the piranhas’ behind their backs.

  The following is a description of the McCarthy/Dundons from a serving Garda in Limerick who knew them best. ‘They are the most devious and dangerous bastards that we ever encountered in Limerick or anywhere else in Ireland. They were called the piranhas because they would eat each other if they were hungry enough. They run with the hares and hunt with the hounds. Killing or maiming comes like second nature to all of them and they have absolutely no fear of the law. They are so dangerous that they would be shaking your hand one minute and then shoot [you] in the back, as soon as you turn away from them. They don’t care about doing time or being shot and injured, although they would prefer to avoid both if they could. They accept danger as part of everyday life, like it is an occupational hazard.’

  As soon as they arrived back in Limerick, the Dundons and their cousins began causing mayhem. They got involved in the drug trade but steered clear of conflict with the Keanes – for the time being at least. The McCarthy/Dundons became embroiled in a series of bitter and extremely complex feuds with other criminal families, including the Caseys and the McNamaras. At one stage the McCarthy/Dundons began feuding with the Caseys. But they later settled their differences and Wayne Dundon married one of the Caseys. The two sides then joined forces and went after the McNamaras. It led to a string of shootings, assaults and abductions, as up to four extended families got involved. Houses and cars belonging to each side were burned out and shots were fired through front windows.

  Members of other families, including associates of Mikey Kelly’s, also got involved in the feud. One associate was charged with shooting one of the Caseys in the face with a humane killer. Casey suffered a circular wound to his cheek and the bones in his upper jaw, nose and eye socket were shattered. He was lucky to be alive.

  The local Gardaí were determined to bring the situation under control. An inspector in Roxboro, Jim Browne, set up an operation to put an end to the feuding. Browne would later find himself on the frontline in the war against the Limerick gangs. Over time the Gardaí charged several of the combatants with serious offences, including criminal damage, assaults and possession of firearms. Such were the myriad charges that the victim in one case could also be the accused in another. As a result of police objections to bail, most of the accused thugs were locked up while awaiting trial, which restored a degree of calm to the city. But then Alderman Mikey Kelly stepped in to make matters much worse.

  To much public fanfare, Kelly established his own version of a ‘peace process’, which he tried to equate with the Northern Ireland situation. But his real motivation for the peace talks was to get his associates off a number of charges, including a shooting. Kelly ‘brokered’ the peace deals between the various protagonists and victims, in a bid to undermine the Garda investigations. As a result, all the victims who had given statements to the police in the various criminal cases shook hands and withdrew their evidence. Kelly organized a number of carefully choreographed press conferences for the local media, where the former enemies posed for pictures and shook hands. The result of the so-called peace deals was that none of the injured parties was prepared to give evidence in court and the charges were struck out.

  Mikey’s strategy worked well. When the various cases came before Limerick Circuit Criminal Court, the warring witnesses withdrew their statements with the result that dozens of charges were dropped. The victims in some of the cases had been the attackers in others.

  By thwarting the criminal justice process Kelly had assisted in the development of the McCarthy/Dundon gang. If the Gardaí had succeeded in putting the main pl
ayers behind bars, it is argued that the subsequent gang wars could have been avoided. This is the view of the former Fianna Fáil Defence Minister, Willie O’Dea, TD for Limerick: ‘Kelly interfered in the Gardaí’s business and ensured that certain people could operate freely and become proficient in crime. These people formed the basis of the membership of the future gangs. There is no doubt that Mikey Kelly was a very significant figure in the evolution of organized crime in this city.’

  Kelly kept up his campaign against the Gardaí. Whenever a member of the family or an associate was stopped or arrested, Mikey organized protest vigils outside Roxboro Garda Station. He also called the local media to ensure maximum publicity. His vendetta came to a head in the autumn of 2001 when he was charged with beating his wife, Majella. She later withdrew the charges; however, at the time she told this writer how she had endured twenty years of beatings at the hands of her ‘peacemaker’ husband. Majella Kelly said that her life would have been in danger if she didn’t later recant her statement, and she admitted that she told lies to the court when she dropped the charges. But a few months afterwards Majella Kelly was forced by her husband to make outrageous allegations against the officer in charge of her case, Inspector Jim Browne, who had become Mikey’s nemesis. She brought a malicious private prosecution against the officer, claiming sexual assault. Kelly was doing everything in his power to destroy the one man who was seen as a serious threat to organized crime in the city.

  ‘It was probably better than actually killing the man, making such an allegation,’ one of Browne’s colleagues remarked at the time. But Majella Kelly’s claims were dramatically dismissed in Limerick District Court by Judge Peter Smithwick after the tape of her interview with this writer was played. Judge Smithwick said: ‘This is an evil conspiracy of the Kelly family to denigrate members of the Gardaí, particularly Inspector Browne, who is innocent of the charges against him.’ The judge said he believed Kelly had coerced his terrified wife into taking the action.

  The vexatious case turned the public against Kelly and it finished his political career. In the general election he got a mere 700 votes and later resigned his seat on the city council. The Southill ‘peacemaker’ was investigated by the Criminal Assets Bureau and was subsequently convicted and jailed for eight months for tax offences. His security business was also closed down.

  In May 2004 Kelly, who had moved back to live with his mother in Southill after splitting from his wife, was found unconscious in his bed with a gunshot wound to the head. He never regained consciousness and died in hospital a month later. It is still not known if he shot himself or was killed by someone else.

  By the time of his demise Limerick was already firmly in the grip of war.

  21. The Vacuum

  PJ Judge presented himself to the world as a gentle, soft-spoken man, with good taste in clothes. He was an unremarkable-looking individual who could have passed himself off as an average ‘Joe public’. But the façade of respectability disguised a cold-blooded monster whose name was synonymous with terror. He held the distinction of being one of the most savage thugs to feature in the history of gangland. Long before the likes of the McCarthy/Dundons appeared on the streets, Judge had earned the nickname ‘the Psycho’. No criminal was ever given such a fitting sobriquet.

  A retired detective, who witnessed Judge’s career from the cradle to the grave, described him: ‘I have known practically every major criminal in Dublin for over thirty years and I have never met one like Judge. There was a behavioural kink in the bastard. He was the worst, most evil fuck I ever came across. He committed two of the most brutal murders I have investigated and he even tried to kill Guards.’ A criminal who once worked with Judge agreed with the worldly-wise cop. ‘He scared the shit out of everyone. There was something about that fucker that just wasn’t right. He talked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth but could cut your heart out and smile into your face at the same time. Most criminals kill because it’s just part of the business but Judge loved it.’

  When PJ Judge was released from prison in 1989, like so many of his cronies he decided to take advantage of the new career path – the drug trade. Within a few years he controlled a huge drug distribution network across Dublin, through fear and extreme violence. He was introduced to the drug trade by his neighbour John McKeown, who controlled many of the cannabis rackets in the north and west of the city. The Psycho invested the robbery cash he had hidden in ‘off-side’ bank accounts to buy a number of small consignments of hash. He gradually expanded and the money came rolling in. Then he branched out into heroin, ecstasy and amphetamines.

  Two years later Judge was one of the biggest operators in the Dublin underworld. He controlled ‘patches’ right across the south, west and north of the city. He had extensive contacts with other drug gangs in Limerick and Cork. The nearest the Gardaí came to catching Judge with his drugs was in August 1991, when he was spotted by detectives near the Grand Canal. Judge made a run for it when he saw the cops, throwing a jacket into the canal. It was later found to contain amphetamine tablets worth over £10,000. He was charged and released on bail. A file on the case was sent to the Director of Public Prosecutions, who decided it would be difficult to connect Judge with the jacket containing the drugs.

  After his lucky escape, Judge continued expanding his business. From the beginning he decided that he would not allow anyone to rip him off or not pay up on time. He let it be known that anyone who messed with him would be in for a severe beating or a bullet. Judge organized his network of dealers like a military operation, with strict rules. If they were drug-abusers then they indulged their habit on their own time. There was also a stringent ‘no credit’ policy. Judge believed that allowing junkies to owe him money would lead to others ‘taking liberties’. If any of his pushers lost money or drugs, then Judge punished them by doubling the value of what was lost. If it wasn’t paid the errant pusher was tortured or shot. When a pusher was not working hard enough he was sacked from Judge’s ‘golden circle’. Then the word would be put out and the pusher would be blanked by everyone in the business. It was not unusual for the Psycho to have his pushers out moving drugs around the city at three or four in the morning, as he drove around checking up on them. He was guaranteed total loyalty and secrecy from his people for two reasons: they were absolutely terrified of the man, and they made plenty of easy money.

  The fact that Judge was also bisexual added to the complexity of his character. It was well known in underworld circles that he took sexual advantage of some of his younger, more vulnerable male drug-dealers. But no one ever dared say anything about it to his face. He also had a string of girlfriends, some of whom were known prostitutes. Judge sadistically beat his male and female lovers quite severely, for no apparent reason. On one occasion he gave a girlfriend such a beating that she ran into the Bridewell Garda Station for protection. Judge burst in after her, demanding that the terrified woman leave with him. The police told him to get out or he would be charged with assault and breach of the peace. The girlfriend, however, was too scared to prefer charges and later relocated, to avoid bumping into her psychotic boyfriend again.

  The Psycho didn’t stop at inflicting pain, he was also a murderer. Michael Godfrey was a small-time crook who had the misfortune of becoming Judge’s partner-in-crime. Godfrey, who was born in Dublin in 1938, had returned to Ireland in 1985 after spending several years in England. He set himself up as an insurance broker but went bust five years later. He had been involved in a large-scale compensation scam, organized by Martin Cahill’s associate, inner-city hoodlum Stephen ‘Rossi’ Walsh. Walsh’s gang made fraudulent claims against public utilities and insurance companies, based on ‘accidents’ they arranged around Dublin. Over a three-year period, the Irish insurance industry estimated that Walsh was behind dozens of staged accidents where compensation and legal fees worth £2 million had been paid out. He used a core group of 23 individuals and Godfrey’s knowledge of the insurance business was a big help. In 19
92 Walsh’s luck finally ran out when he blew up a pub on Dublin’s north-side. The thug was found lying in the smouldering ruins of the premises by firemen. He was charged with arson and subsequently jailed for 14 years. Many years later the underworld hard man was also exposed as a habitual paedophile. In 2010 he was convicted for the rape and sexual abuse of two children.

  Godfrey was introduced to Judge in 1989. The pair were first involved in a money-counterfeiting scam together, until Godfrey was caught in the UK in 1991 and jailed for 30 months. When he returned to Ireland, he set up a front company in an industrial unit in Glasnevin. The plan was to import large quantities of cannabis for Judge, who was anxious to cut out the middlemen in the business. In February 1993 they travelled to Belgium where they agreed to buy 30 kilos of hash from a Dutch dealer for £30,000. It was to be a pilot operation and, if it went well, they would place regular orders. When the first consignment arrived on 12 March, Judge refused to take it because it was not the cannabis he’d sampled in Holland. The Psycho was in a chilling temper and ordered Godfrey to get the money back. Instead Godfrey sold the hash to John Gilligan’s lieutenant, Peter ‘Fatso’ Mitchell, for almost double its price. Judge heard about the deal and flew into a rage. He accused Godfrey of ripping him off and demanded all the cash from the transaction. The conman’s perceived disloyalty had sealed his fate.

  On the night of 31 March 1993, Judge first went looking for Mitchell, armed with an automatic pistol. He couldn’t find him and shot one of Fatso’s associates in the leg instead. The man was hospitalized but refused to co-operate with detectives investigating the case. Judge was subsequently arrested for questioning but refused to talk. He was released without charge.

  Three days later, Judge sent two associates to abduct Godfrey from his flat. They took him to Scribblestown Lane, a cul-de-sac situated on waste ground on the outer fringes of Finglas, North Dublin. When the car arrived Godfrey was taken into a field where Judge was waiting. The Psycho caught his victim by the throat and beat him. He hurled abuse at Godfrey who pleaded for mercy. Judge ordered one of his thugs to shoot him in the head with a .32 pistol. The man fired a shot at Godfrey, injuring him. The conman was still alive and pleading for mercy. Judge grabbed the gun from his accomplice, cocked it and finished his partner off with another bullet in the back of the head. The Psycho then calmly walked away, got into his car and drove off. Gardaí investigating the murder knew that he was the killer but didn’t have the evidence with which to charge him. His accomplices were prepared to do jail-time rather than incur the Psycho’s wrath.