Collusion with Injustice by Philip Coogan

Author:Philip Coogan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Co.

Chapter 24

A few days later, Jack contacted me again. As promised, he had arranged for me to meet Paddy Devlin in Belfast.

Jack asked if he and I could meet first on the Falls Road, and he would then take me to Paddy’s office. Overhearing the phone call, my brother Tony said he would accompany me. On the appointed day, we arrived at the Falls Road in the early afternoon and parked the Mercedes near Clonard Monastery. Tony waited in the car while I got out and looked for Jack. I quickly found him, and, as we were strolling back towards the car, I noticed someone crouched against the passenger door. It was a young lad that, when he looked up and saw Jack and me approaching, immediately jumped up and took to his heels. Tony had an unusual look on his face. ‘What was that boy doing?’ I asked Tony.

‘Would you believe, he just came up and stuck a revolver in my ribs and asked for the car keys. I told him I didn’t have them.’ This was true, as I had taken the keys with me. Apparently the youth was a member of the Junior IRA, who, when he recognised Jack with us, had abandoned his plan.

We got in the car, and Jack directed me to Paddy Devlin’s, a small back office, presumably the centre of operations for his political work. Jack introduced me and told Paddy about the problems I was having restarting my business and that no compensation had yet been paid for the bomb damage. I noticed that all the while Paddy kept one hand hidden in the open drawer of his desk. After hearing my story, Paddy asked a few questions, then wrote me out a letter addressed to a certain solicitor. The letter stressed that I was being obstructed in my livelihood due to my religion and unfairly impeded by people who should by right be helping me. Paddy then wished me well, and I thanked him for his time and trouble on my behalf. As we were driving back via the Falls Road, Jack came up with another suggestion, a rather unusual one. ‘If all else fails,’ he said, ‘you can always go and ask the Reverend Paisley for help.’ Well, I had to be amused at that.

The Reverend Ian Paisley was a firebrand Protestant preacher forever declaiming against ‘Popery’! That he might put himself out for some unknown Catholic with a hard-luck story seemed unlikely. I really did think it was a joke, especially coming from someone living on the Falls Road. But Jack was serious. I said, ‘Suppose he refuses to see me?’

Jack replied, saying something to the effect that there was no harm in asking, to which all I could say was, ‘I’ll think about it.’

Back home, when I told Patricia about Jack’s suggestion, she laughed too.

I believed the majority of people, whether north or south of the border, actually wanted little to do with the violence or extremist politics rearing up and were simply striving to make the best living they could and raise a family in peace.

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