The judges’ downfall

The drunk driver and the judges’ downfall

County View

John Healy

THE always-excellent ‘Scannal’ series returned to RTÉ screens a week last Monday. Maybe it is a sign of how quickly we forget, but the opening programme on the infamous Philip Sheedy affair of ten years ago reawakened the outrage that enveloped that case and that brought the judiciary and the political system into deep disrepute.

Philip Sheedy was a young Dublin architect who was involved in a car accident in 1997 that caused the death of Anne Ryan and destroyed the lives of her husband, John, and their family. The couple was returning home with their two children when Mr Sheedy, under the influence of alcohol, lost control of his car which flew 70 feet in the air before landing on the roof of the Ryans’ car killing Anne Ryan.

In October 1997, Sheedy was sentenced to four years in prison by Judge Matthews at Dublin Circuit Court.

Just a year later, it was brought to the attention of Mr Ryan that Mr Sheedy had been seen in the locality, walking around as a free man. Mr Ryan went to the Garda station, demanding an explanation. The Gardaí knew nothing and were as surprised as Mr Ryan to hear of Mr Sheedy’s whereabouts. The state solicitor’s office was contacted, but nobody there could offer any explanation of how the convicted offender was free and on the streets.

By now, the media had got hold of the story. In the Dáil, questions were asked and answers demanded. Slowly, the bizarre set of circumstances that would lead to the resignation of two of the most eminent members of the Bench, and the near collapse of the Government, began to unfold.

The saga began when, shortly after Mr Sheedy’s imprisonment, Supreme Court Justice Hugh O’Flaherty was enjoying a leisurely stroll in Herbert Park, near his Dublin home. As he walked, he happened to meet a young neighbour, Ken Anderson, also enjoying a walk. but who – of all coincidences – was accompanied by Mr Sheedy’s sister. It seems the short conversation quickly came round to Mr Sheedy and what, if anything, might be done for him.

Judge O’Flaherty recalled a similar case that had turned out well for the defendant, and promised to see what he could do. The following day, he called into his chambers the Dublin Circuit Court Registrar, Michael Quinlan, and sought his advice.

The upshot was that, on November 12, 1998, without reference to the DPP, the Gardaí or the Ryan family, Mr Sheedy’s case was relisted and heard before Judge Cyril Kelly. Judge Kelly suspended the remainder of the sentence, and Mr Sheedy walked free.

The furore that followed this extraordinary wielding of judicial power was uncontainable. Something had to give. The DPP went to the High Court to seek a review of the circumstances behind the release. Someone realised the case was getting too hot to handle. Before the High Court could hear the case, Mr Sheedy voluntarily went back to prison.

But the drums continued to rumble, and when the Chief Justice, Liam Hamilton, delivered a 50-page, scathingly uncompromising report to the Government, the writing was on the wall for Judges O’Flaherty and Kelly, both of whom had trenchantly resisted any calls for resignation.

The Chief Justice said that Judge Kelly had behaved in a manner ill-befitting a judge and that his handling of the case compromised the administration of justice. He also severely criticised Judge Kelly’s reference to outdated psychological reports in freeing Mr Sheedy. Of Judge O’Flaherty, the Chief Justice said that his actions were inappropriate and unwise, adding that the case would never have been put in the Circuit Court list if he had not interfered in the first place in a matter that had nothing to do with him. He also said that he could not share Judge O’Flaherty’s belief that a Supreme Court judge could expect to be treated like an ordinary citizen when he called a court official into his chambers to inquire about a particular case.

Time was running out. The government made it clear to the two judges that they had two options: They could either resign or face unprecedented impeachment by the Dáil and removal from office.

They chose the former, the pill being sweetened by legislation brought in by Justice Minister John O’Donoghue that enhanced the pensions of both.

But there was to be one more twist to the story a year later. In May 2000, Finance Minister Charlie McCreevy nominated Hugh O’Flaherty as a vice President of the European Investment Bank, a post equivalent in salary to that of a European Commissioner. It was another classic example of a minister being totally out of touch with political reality.

So great was the outrage, so intense the public disapproval that Hugh O’Flaherty asked that his name be withdrawn as a nominee for the prestigious position. The Government, relieved, didn’t have to be asked twice.

The Sheedy affair was finally over.

A man for the people

THE retirement of Sean McEvoy  from a number of group water schemes brings to an end a commitment to rural development going back over 50 years.

The former national school teacher has a distinguished record of services going back to the days of Fr McDyer of Glencolumbkille, when the ‘Save the West’ campaign was all that stood between the West of Ireland and economic and social devastation.

Sean McEvoy was one of those committed individuals who travelled the length and breadth of the province to draughty halls on winter nights in remote locations in order to light the fire of self-help in communities and neighbourhoods that had little to live for.

Subsequent years saw him enter local politics and to serve the Swinford electoral area on Mayo County Council under the Fine Gael colours. Indeed, he served as the council’s Cathaoirleach. But one always knew that his first commitment was to the community, and he saw his involvement in the political process as the natural consequence of promoting the ideals he always stood for.

He was tenacious, principled, energetic and selfless in everything he did to better the quality of life for rural communities. He deserves a break from his labours and the satisfaction of looking back on the many achievements in his lifetime.

Martin’s memoirs

Retired journalist, foreign correspondent and raconteur, Seamus Martin has just published his memoirs under the title of ‘Good Times and Bad, from the Coombe to the Kremlin’.

He worked with ‘The Independent’, ‘The Sunday Tribune’ and ‘The Irish Times’, but the most colourful of his anecdotes mark hack to ‘The Irish Press’.

One of the best stories concerns the now legendary Bobby Pyke, the paper’s cartoonist – a man who was almost permanently drunk. On one occasion, the editor-in-chief of the paper, Major Vivion de Valera, decided to reduce the fees paid to Pyke, but without informing the cartoonist in advance.

When Pyke opened his pay packet, his shock turned to outrage, and he decided there and then to confront De Valera, who at that moment was attending a diplomatic function for a visiting African head of state.

Fortified by several brandies, Pyke arrived at Iveagh House where the reception was in full swing and made a beeline for Major de Valera, who was deep in conversation with an official from the visiting delegation.

“There you are, Major Vivion de Valera TD,” trumpted Pyke, “entertaining Africans and starving your f***ing own.”

The Maharishi flies home

BACK in the 1980s transcendential meditation was all the rage. The technique was thought to improve ones quality of life, reduce stress, improve work productivity and attain world peace, according to its founder, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

The Maharishi was in his 50s when his own peculiar philosophy, the Spiritual Regeneration Movement, took the world by storm. Applying the principles of maths and physics, the Hindu mystic calculated that just one person practising his form of transcendental meditation could induce virtuous behaviour among 99 non meditators. However, that meant that to achieve his aim of world peace, he would need 50 million meditators to bring harmony to a world of 5 billion people.

Undeterred by the enormity of his first calculation, he redid the sums, and a second calculation told him that he would be able to achieve the desired result with only 7000 followers, provided they also added the skill of ‘yogic flying’ to their repertoire. And so in a hugely publicised event, 7,000 yogic flyers assembled in 1984 for the Taste of Utopia conference in Fairfield, Iowa.

Whether the promotion had any real effect on world peace, nobody quite knew. But the Maharishi’s name was made, and when the Beatles took themselves off to his abode at the foot of the Himalayas to worship at his feet, there was no looking back. Granted, their visit was only a minor success. John Lennon and Ringo Starr complained about the quality of the food, and all four grew weary of the Maharishi’s insistance on using them for publicity, not to mention the heavy hints that he might be entitled to a share of their income.

He set up a university, built a property empire and founded a television station offering meditation courses to subscribers in 144 countries. Disciples, said to number 5 million in all, paid €2,000 each for courses leading to deeper levels of transcendental meditation. His political movement, the Natural Law Party, still surfaces to run in national and local elections in the UK and other countries.

Not much had been heard of the Maharishi over the past decade. Old age had confined his travels, even though he had his own private jet, and a new generation seemed less interested in peace and love than the flower children of the 80s.

Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, spiritual friend of millions, died three weeks ago at the age of 92.

Hallelujah for Obama?

ALL eyes are set now on that dramatic race on the other side of the ocean for the privilege of occupying the Oval office.

From a seemingly unassailable lead a year ago, Hillary Clinton looks in real danger of losing the Democratic nomination to the man who admirers refer to as a phenomenon, Barack Obama.

Just who emerges at the end of the day will tell us a lot about Americans and their view of politics. One view is that, regardless of the tidal wave of Obama support, when the hard-nosed pragmatists sit down to decide who is most likely to win back the White House after eight years, Clinton will be the choice.

The other is that America is looking for a new start under a new charismatic leader, and that the prospect of electing the first Afro-American president means that Obama must be the choice to square up to Republican John McCain.

In between are the doubters who fear that the Obama bubble is ready to burst and that the Clinton jibe of ‘all hat and no cattle’ is too near the truth for comfort. The tide of euphoria that has lifted Obama this far might be shown to lack real substance when the oratory runs out. Comparing the young senator’s style to that of a Bible-belt preacher who promises future salvation may not be very subtle, but there are serious signs that there may not be too much beef in the Obama sandwich.

Fine words and flowing eloquence won’t put bread on the table or save ordinary Americans from further economic pain.