‘But you thick eejit, can’t you see? I don’t want anyone else, I just want you.’ Tears of frustration shone in her eyes.
‘I can’t ask you...the sentencing is tomorrow, it could be years and years...’ he tried again.
‘I’m not asking you to ask me anything, I’m telling you that I want to be your girlfriend and someday maybe more than that. That’s what I want and if I have to wait for years, then so be it. Mr d’Alton is hopeful, and so am I, that it won’t be for too many years, but however long it takes, I’ll wait. I just don’t want to wait for a fella who doesn’t want me. I just wanted to know where I stand.’
In the year since his arrest, Patrick had really got to know her and he’d never seen her so emotional. She was tough and determined and full of craic despite her demure exterior. He hated girls that turned on the waterworks every five minutes, but Helen wasn’t like that.
‘I don’t know, Helen. I’m mad about you, of course I am, you’re lovely and funny and kind but I...’
‘Stop right there, Patrick Lynch.’ She put up her hand to stop him talking.
‘I love you. Do you love me?’
Suddenly, Patrick realised that she was serious. She loved him, and she wanted to wait for him. It seemed such a huge sacrifice, but it was what she wanted. She seemed adamant.
‘I do. I really do. And on top of it, Connie and Anna, and Liam and Hugo, and Mrs Tobin, and even Father Aquinas, all love you too. I don’t know who sent you to me, my mam maybe, but Helen Dunne, if you’ll wait for me, I swear to you the minute I get out of this place, we’ll get married if that’s what you want.’
‘It is, more than anything.’ And she allowed the tears to flow unchecked down her face as they held hands tightly.
‘But there is one condition,’ he said gravely.
‘What?’
‘If I get more than ten years, I’m letting you go. I don’t want to hear from you, no letters, no visits. If I’m going to have my youth taken from me, I couldn’t bear to have yours taken as well. You have to give me your word that you’ll agree before I propose. Do you promise?’
Helen knew he was serious, and she had to agree.
‘I promise,’ she said, though she knew in her heart she would always wait for him.
Patrick pulled a thread from his rough prison issue shirt and clumsily tied it in a loop. The warden was deep in conversation with a colleague and had his back turned, so Patrick got off his seat and went down on one knee beside Helen.
‘Helen Dunne, I’ve no idea why you want to marry me but if you do, I’m asking you formally. Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?’
Tears shone in her eyes as he put the loop of thread on her ring finger.
‘I’d love to.’
By now, the warder had turned around and was observing the scene.
‘We just got engaged,’ she told him as if he couldn’t see for himself.
He grinned, the sight of the two young people clearly in love, bringing a bit of joy into the grey visiting room. ‘Right, well good luck to ye, I suppose. At least he won’t be annoying you by leaving the seat of the Jacks up, not for a while.’
Though the humour was dark, for some reason Patrick and Helen found it hilarious, and they laughed till they could hardly breathe.
They sat in the same coffee shop across the street from the courthouse the following morning, this time with d’Alton and Mr O’Kelly, all trying to keep the conversation going but failing miserably. Liam thought d’Alton was different, he seemed nicer but still quite standoffish. Perhaps he was worried about the outcome, as well.
They were gathered on the steps outside awaiting the opening of the court and for the circus to begin again. Geoffrey d’Alton’s most notorious cases emblazoned the front pages complete with several photos of the man himself.
‘This seems to be more about you than Patrick, Mr d’Alton,’ Father Aquinas said with a smile.
‘Well, Father, the media do love a David and Goliath story and since I often defend the David rather than the Goliath, I suppose I have gained some notoriety. Though not always, of course, sometimes the giant can be the injured party also.’
He was smooth, Liam gave him that. Intelligence gleamed in his eyes, but he was unreadable. Liam wondered if being good-looking, and d’Alton certainly was a handsome man, helped in court. He suspected it did. Even though women couldn’t serve on a jury, men too were drawn to good looks and tended to trust the word of beauty over ugliness. If d’Alton had reinvented himself, and it seemed that it was the case, he’s done a comprehensive job on it. Liam definitely got the impression that mentioning that they knew of his humble origins wouldn’t be welcome. Even he couldn’t have failed to be impressed by Greyrock, and there was the distinct feeling that fine dining in mansions was much more d’Alton’s style than reminiscing about the good old days when he was poor.
He glanced at Hugo, who was gazing at d’Alton. He looked entranced by him, hanging on his every word. That was a turn up for the books, Liam noted. Last time he checked, Hugo couldn’t stand the man. He’d had to go back to Greyrock immediately after the trial so he didn’t get a chance to talk to Hugo properly since then. He wondered if d’Alton was married. There was no mention of a wife or family and given the vast amount of coverage he received, if he had one, surely it would have been written about. There was something about Hugo that morning, something different, it was hard to put his finger on it. It was probably nervousness and anxiety over the sentencing.
The courthouse opened, and they trooped across the road. Once again, the cameras and the journalists surged and demanded a statement from d’Alton. This time he obliged and all traces of the nicer version of him disappeared. Back was the plummy accent and his condescending air as he addressed the gathered hacks.
‘Please stand aside and allow us access immediately.’
Amazingly they did, his tone brooked no argument.
Liam, Hugo, Father Aquinas, Helen, Mrs Tobin, and Mr O’Kelly followed in his wake once more to a hail of camera flashes. Several of them called Hugo by name, by his title, this really was story gold, but he ignored them.
They were called into court where the public gallery was already full. The judge was announced and took the bench. This time, Patrick turned around to see who was there and managed a watery smile. Each one of them was sending him strength and love, and Liam hoped he could feel it.
D’Alton sat at the defence table with Mr O’Kelly behind him. The prosecution barrister, Delaney, sat on the other side, looking nervous.
There was the usual shuffling before the judge addressed the clerk of the court and several legal people approached the bench. There seemed to be endless coming and going.
‘Can he not just get on with it? I’m going to be sick, I can’t wait…’ The normally cool Helen was very stressed.
Liam leaned over and patted her arm. ‘I know, Helen, it’s torture, but you’ve been so tough for so long, just hold on…’
‘I can’t bear to think of him down there on his own, not knowing...’ Her normally stoic countenance dissolved into tears. Mrs Tobin held her hand and comforted her. Father Aquinas sat like a statue, gazing straight ahead, his face unreadable. Liam knew he was deep in prayer.
Twenty minutes passed and there was an endless stream of legal people in and out but nobody else left the courtroom. Other cases were being tried in other courts but for everyone in court number one, the fate of Patrick Lynch was all they could think of.
The judge cleared his throat and silence descended.
‘Will the defendant please rise?’
Patrick stood up, and they could see him in profile. Liam thought he looked much younger than his twenty-one years, more vulnerable.
‘Has the probation report been compiled?’
‘Yes, your honour,’ said the clerk, handing him a document.
‘Can I get the probation officer,’ he checked the name on the repor
t, ‘Oscar Fennessy on the stand please?’
A tall thin man approached the witness box. Patrick said he was a nice man, he trained the under-twelve hurling team in St Finbarr’s so they had a lot to talk about. He was confident that Mr Fennessy would give a good account of him.
‘What are the findings of your report, Mr Fennessy?’
‘I found the defendant Patrick Lynch to be a young man of good and honourable character. He behaves well in prison, does all that is asked of him and is polite and courteous to all those with whom he has dealings. He was, in my opinion, driven to commit this act by extreme circumstances, and it is very much out of his character to behave in such a manner. It is my considered opinion that he is extremely unlikely to reoffend. In addition, as the court is aware, there are two young girls, his sisters, currently in the care of a neighbour, who have lost both their parents. His presence in their lives would be to their betterment, in my opinion.’
‘Has he shown remorse for his actions?’
This was a question they were dreading. Patrick wasn’t sorry, and he said he would not get on the stand and say that he was. D’Alton advised him to do so, but he refused. Liam tried to convince him to lie under oath as well—yet another action which led him to question his suitability for the religious life—but he thought Patrick was mad to jeopardise his future over just words. Nobody could get through to him.
Two days before the sentencing, Liam had begged his friend to say he deeply regretted killing his father, even using the emotional blackmail of Connie and Anna and how he would be depriving them of him in their lives over just words.
‘You don’t have to mean it, Patrick, for God’s sake, just say it,’ Liam pleaded.
‘Lie under oath? Is that what you’re telling me to do, Father Tobin?’ Patrick snapped.
‘No, well yes, but for the greater good,’ Liam was adamant.
‘No, Liam, I’ve done wrong things in my life but killing him wasn’t one of them, and I won’t say it was. I’d do it again given the chance.’
Liam left exasperated with his friend.
‘Yes, I believe the defendant is truly sorry for what happened.’
Hugo and Liam exchanged glances and then gazed at Patrick, half-expecting him to jump up and shout he wasn’t sorry, but thankfully he remained silent.
‘Very well. Thank you, Mr Fennessy. I would also like to hear from Detective Inspector McMullan, who led the investigation into this case.’
Liam caught his mother’s eye.
‘Is the defendant known to you, Inspector?’
‘Yes, your honour, but only since the day of his mother’s murder. Up to that point, Patrick Lynch was not known to the Gardaí.’
‘And what opinion have you formed of him based on your acquaintance?’
‘Your honour, I have found Patrick Lynch to be an exemplary young man. He is hard-working, honest, and has acted as the protector of his family since he was old enough to do so. I have had occasion several times to engage with his father, the late Joe Lynch, and he was of a criminal mindset. He was a violent alcoholic who tormented his family. Patrick is nothing like him. He is abstemious in his ways, he has a wonderful network of support around him, and he is, in my opinion, of impeccable character. I would also like to echo Mr Fennessy’s comments, Patrick Lynch has two young sisters who are currently being cared for, most ably, by a family friend, but they miss him. They have had a lot of trauma in their lives and the absence of their brother is exacerbating that situation.’
Liam saw his mother lock eyes with the detective’s across the courtroom for just a second. There was understanding there; he hoped things worked out for them.
‘Thank you, Inspector.’ The judge seemed to be considering for a moment what he was going to say next.
He turned his attention to Patrick and looked at him for what seemed like several minutes but was probably thirty seconds. Helen’s fingernails dug into Liam once more. The tension in the courtroom was palpable.
‘Patrick Lynch, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to remember that you are still under oath, do you understand?’
‘I do, your honour,’ Patrick answered clearly. His voice betrayed none of the anxiety that his friends knew he was feeling.
‘How do you feel about your father now?’
Liam begged the Lord that Patrick wouldn’t tell the truth. He tried to telepathically connect to his friend, ‘Just say you’re sorry.’
‘I hate him, your honour. He gave my family a terrible life, my mother especially, and I’m glad he’s dead.’
The courtroom filled with a kind of silent apprehension. Liam realised he was holding his breath and quietly exhaled with a sinking heart. Patrick surely had done terrible damage to his prospects by admitting that.
‘Is that all you have to say?’ the judge asked.
‘No, your honour, it’s not. I wish he hadn’t killed my mother, I wish my sisters and I still had her in our lives, but we haven’t. I did beat him up and he died as a result, but I didn’t set out to kill him. I’m glad he’s dead, but I’m sorry it was I who did it.’
Hugo whispered to Liam, ‘That’s as close as he’s going to get to an apology.’ And Liam nodded.
D’Alton gave Patrick an almost imperceptible nod, and Hugo realised that just like everything else, the barrister had orchestrated the last few minutes. He had written that speech for Patrick. He knew he wouldn’t apologise, but he got him within a reasonable approximation of it.
The resonant tones of the judge filled the silent but packed courtroom.
‘There is no excuse for what you did. You should have left matters in the hands of the Gardaí. Instead, you chose to take the law into your hands. It is unacceptable from any citizen to exact retribution or punishment from those with whom they have a grievance, legitimate or not. The structures of the law exist for that purpose, and therefore, people who deem themselves above the law must be punished. You took a life. Everyone in the courtroom heard all the reasons why and many sympathise, but the fact remains that you took the life of another. I am therefore sentencing you to six years in prison, with four suspended. Take him down.’
He banged his gavel and rose to leave. The gathered crowd rose as they tried to process what they just heard.
‘Six with four suspended...’ Helen began.
‘He’s served almost one already. That means he’ll be out in a year,’ Father Aquinas said with a broad grin.
‘Less probably, he’ll get something off for good behaviour,’ d’Alton added, having left his seat to join them.
Hugo fought the urge to hug him. Instead, he stood beside him and briefly squeezed his hand. D’Alton squeezed back, their hands hidden from view by his gown.
Liam and Father Aquinas exchanged a silent prayer of thanks to what they both were sure was the intervention of the Almighty, and Helen and Mrs Tobin wept tears of joy.
‘We’re getting married!’ Helen announced through her tears, having promised Patrick she would say nothing until the hearing. She wouldn’t have to renege on her promise to forget about him. He’d be out and home and able to start their lives together.
‘He proposed yesterday, but he said we could only go through with it if he got fewer than ten years.’ The small group were overjoyed, both at the sentence and Helen’s announcement.
‘Welcome to the gang, Helen,’ Liam said. ‘I hope you realise we are a package offer. Not only do you get Ireland’s most loved jailbird, but you get me and Hugo too!’
‘And Connie and Anna, and Mrs Tobin, and Father Aquinas,’ Hugo added with a grin.
D.I. McMullan made his way across the courtroom to join them. ‘This is good. Honestly, this is the best we could have hoped for.’
Liam saw his mam redden slightly when the detective protected her from being bumped as the crowds surged to get out. Liam recognised an elderly couple in the throng beside him as Mr and Mrs Murray from the huckster shop up the lane from C
hapel Street. Mrs Murray was always nice to them as kids on the odd occasion when they got the money for an ice cream or a few sweets.
‘Hello, Mrs Murray, Mr Murray,’ Liam addressed them.
‘Ah, Liam, how are you, pet,’ she replied. Her husband nodded and smiled. He was always a man of few words but everyone on Chapel Street liked them.
‘Not too bad, Mrs Murray. The lawyers say it was the best we could have hoped for. Thanks for coming, I know Patrick appreciates it.’
‘He’s a grand boy, always was. And that Joe Lynch was a trial and a torment to that family and no mistake. We said a prayer the judge would go easy on him, didn’t we, Pat?’ she said, nodding at her husband.
‘Indeed, we did. Every candle in the church has been lit for Patrick, you tell him that. Father Mac can’t say all the Masses that people have petitioned for him. Make sure he knows that, Liam. His neighbours were all praying for him.’
It was the longest sentence Liam had ever heard Mr Murray say in his whole life.
‘I certainly will, Mr Murray. He’ll be heartened, I’m sure, to know that.’
‘He’s lucky to have you and Hugo. I know we should call him some fancy name now, I suppose, but I still remember him with his blond curls, buying up every sweet and cake in the shop.’ Mrs Murray smiled.
‘Oh, whatever you do, call him Hugo. He’d hate it if you changed now. We are so lucky, but then he’s like family to us.’
‘He is, I suppose, by now. Mrs Lynch, God rest her, loved to see him coming and ye young lads above in St Bart’s. Anyway, God bless you, Liam, and sure someday soon we’ll be calling you Father Tobin.’ Mrs Murray smiled.
‘Mrs Murray, you’ve called me Liam my whole life. Please don’t ever call me anything else,’ he said with a sigh.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 107
