Paddy Nemesis, page 16
- What forms.
- The application forms to join the Gards.
- What for?
- So I can join the Gards, actually bring two, Glen wants one too.
- I wouldn't be sure if it’s for him?
- Why?
- Dunno, just can't see him taking it seriously.
- Well, we'll soon find out. I'll see you in Raffertys at seven?
- Sound.
We got fast tracked into Templemore. Not even six months later Glen and I said goodbye to Boyle. Sarah was still not fully aware of my reasoning. Problem was, she got the reasons, she just didn't want to get them.
I wanted to stop people like my dad getting away with what he did. I wanted to stop Irishmen running away to America, and hold them accountable for their crimes over here. I wanted to be stronger and faster and protect the people who couldn't protect themselves. I couldn't do all these things just as me.
Three years later, I finished top of the class and got a commendation from the Commissioner. At my passing out, and for the second time since that night when I was 16, my parents sat together in their finest. Sarah sat next to them like their mute daughter. My dad was right about Glen, he found training difficult and had to retake a few exams, but in the last couple of months he seemed hell bent on joining me at the passing out and never left his room.
I was 25 and out on the N4 doing traffic offences, not what I'd fucking signed up for. I had really wanted a stint in Dublin where the real action was, but a few officers in Boyle had retired, and my dad had gone up to the Chief Super and personally requested Glen and I be based in Boyle. Thanks a fucking bunch dad.
Chapter 18
It was the 20th march 2004, there was fuck all going on out on the road. A couple of break light offences and some young fat-fuck boy-racer in a civic who was doing over a tonne on a known black spot for accidents. He knew I was new, he was known to us for speeding. It was like meeting a stranger you already knew. He was giving me some mouth, asking if I had nothing better to do and surely there were other crimes more serious than speeding. He tried to make out I was in the wrong. He figured if he kept on at me, I'd forget to check his licence due to three more points technically banning him from driving. He soon shut up when I asked to see it, and told him he'd have to walk home. Fat fuck needed the exercise anyway.
It was quiet enough and I had looked forward to heading home to Sarah and a nice bottle of red.
When I eventually got back to the station, my dad was in the locker room getting ready for the dead as doornails night shift.
- Hows yourself?
- Fuck all going today, got Lorcan's car picked up, made him walk home.
- Fat fucker needs the exercise.
- That’s what I told him.
I wanted to get away from this small talk, still pissed at the fact I was in the one place I wanted to get away from. Looking at my old man with his top off, his flesh looked like melted wax over a firm muscular candle, it was fair to say that he had looked withdrawn. He wanted the conversation over more than I did. This tipped me towards curiosity.
- You ok?
- Aye, just not getting enough sleep and you know, its hard trying to balance everything.
- Such as?
- Work and when your off, and your pal has called in sick again, fucking threw him a bone to work with me but he's got the shits. He's giving me the shits.
- Want me to have a word?
- Ah no, I'm keeping an eye on him. You ok?
- Ah yeah.
- Give my love to Sarah.
- Will do.
- Jack?
- What?
Silence.
- Nothing.
And that was the last time I saw him. Not sure if he wanted to tell me something. Would it have been easier to think that's what he was trying to do, was it my subconscious trying to find a "that must have been it" answer? Just the whole "nothing" thing got to me.
And I never forgave Glen for throwing a sickie - due to being out on the rip the previous night with some mates up in Enniskillen. Things could have been so different.
Would anything have been as easy?
When I got home, the stereo in the bathroom was on playing Jeff Buckley. I took my jacket off, and slung it over one of the dining room chairs. I looked in the microwave to see if there was any hot food in there, there was more hope of finding intelligent life in Limerick. There was no point in looking in the oven but I looked on the off chance. Maybe if I had a chisel, I'd be able to scrape something off the baking tray but I didn't mind my life at that moment. I went to the liquor cabinet in the living room. Sarah's folks had left it fully stocked even after their move to Spain. I took out a 18 year old Jameson, poured out a measure large enough to kill a small dog, got a couple of ice cubes out of the freezer and sat in one of the oversized armchairs with the lights turned off and sipped the drink. I looked out the large front window to the fields opposite and thought that this was the life. I'd pushed the conversation with my dad to the back of my mind and agreed with myself that I'd speak with him tomorrow.
Sarah had turned up the stereo, I could hear Last Goodbye as clearly as if it were being played in the next room. I hummed the song and then Sarah started singing and a strangled cat came to mind.
- Fuck sake.
I climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones, like she'd be able to hear them over the dulcet tones of Mr Buckley, pressed myself against the door and knocked on it.
- Room service.
I opened the door to a fully submerged Sarah, and more steam than a Turkish sauna. I stood over her, hands on hips and paused the CD. She shot up and screamed as she was forced back into the bath, splashing water all over me and onto the floor.
- Ahhh, you bastard.
- Sorry - thought someone was being killed in here with all that screaming.
- You can talk.
I leant over and gave her a kiss and she cupped a handful of water and threw it over my shirt.
- Fuck sake Sarah.
- Oops, you’re going to have to take that off now.
I didn't have to ask twice but there was no way I'd get in that bath it was only big enough for me and I didn't fancy having the skin peeled off me the heat she has her baths at. So I took off my shirt, pulled the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, casting my eyes over her body, the curves she hated round her hips and tummy. She never listened to all the compliments I gave her, but if I had ever said yeah - I agree you need to go on a diet, she'd hang my nuts from the nearest lamp post.
- Perv.
- What?
She took the plug out and shot her arm out for a towel, which I grabbed off the rail. She stood up.
- Why are you so red?
- Got waxed earlier.
- Oh right.
- Think it’s just a reaction to the stuff they use, it'll have gone down by tomorrow.
She got out the bath, wrapped in the towel I got her and I grabbed another one off the rail for her hair. I walked into the bedroom and got out of my work trousers, then remembered to kick off my shoes. I was looking round for a pair of jeans and Sarah walked into the room.
- What you doing?
- Looking for my jeans.
- Not just yet.
She took the towel covering her body off and dropped it on the floor, second towel still wrapped round her hair. She looked like a revolutionary Hindu. She walked over to me and tripped as the towel she dropped had caught round her feet, falling into me unceremoniously.
My laughter drowned out the slapping and I fell back onto the bed, pulling Sarah back with me, the towel on her head slipped off and fell between us. I pulled a face, going cross-eyed and sticking my tongue out, when she pulled the towel off, she let out a little squeal.
- Sexy.
Normal face:
- Why thank you.
She gave me a kiss her wet hair covering my face.
- Now where are we.
As her hand went down, pinching my skin and then scratching me with her nails.
- Careful.
- Sorry.
She got her hand under my jocks, I was already hard. She smiled a cheeky smile, disappearing down onto her knees
- Hard day at work?
- Very.
- Ahhh, poor baby.
And then silence as her mouth went around me. I gasped a little, she had chewing gum or a mint in her mouth and it made me tingle. The angle I was at, my legs were on the floor and my torso was laying flat on the bed, it was killing my back.
- Hold on, let me get comfortable, this is killing my back.
Sarah knelt back as I pulled myself fully on the bed. She stood up and climbed onto the bed and on top of me, grabbed my cock with one hand and positioned it under her. Her hair was matted all over her face. As she slid down I moved all the wet hair out of the way. When I was fully inside her she arched her back and then leant forward to kiss me, I could feel the peaks and troughs of her spine under my fingers as they moved down, and I grabbed her arse. This was all going to be over before it had started, as she gained momentum I could feel the great need to cum. I closed my eyes and focussed on my hands squeezing her arse and not her face or bouncing boobs. I was working in five second time slots, just another five seconds, just another five seconds. Sarah started groaning which wasn't helping my cause.
-Dig your nails in.
-What?
-Dig your nails into my shoulders, it will give me something to focus on.
And she fucking dug them in boy, the scars have only recently gone, but this seemed to have turned her on, this new concept of dishing out pain and as I yelled out –
-For fuck sake!
Sarah sped up, pushing her palms into my chest and using that force to get a bit of lift. I didn't want to complain about her hurting me or cracking my ribs but she shouted out that she was cuming and I could feel her pelvic floor start to squeeze so I knew I could crack on and as she was dying down, I came. She lay on me for a few moments, her panting, me biting my tongue.
-I'll have to have another shower now.
-And I'll have to go to the doctors.
-You asked for it.
-Not that fucking hard.
-Wimp.
I knew this wasn't going to end well.
-Right you ready, I'm getting off now.
-I'll turn away from ya.
-OK, after three. one, two, three
Turning away didn't help.
-Nice.
-Jesus were you saving that up?
-Well, it’s been so long you know.
-You can fuck right off.
-I’m in the shower first.
Springing up out of bed, my cum dripping down my leg and I bolt it over to the bathroom, locking the door to a fist-banging, laughing Sarah.
-Ya bastard Clancy. Shall we get a takeout?
-What do you fancy?
-Mings.
-Ah, you twisted me arm.
I could hear her bare feet padding down the stairs. She shouts back out to me
-The usual?
-Please.
I turn on the shower and its lukewarm.
-You used all the fucking hot water.
She doesn't hear or doesn't care but I un pause the CD of Jeff Buckley, and fast forward it to Lilac Wine, and have the quickest shower known to man.
I towel off, suds still in my hair and go back into the bedroom.
Sarah is sat naked on the bed and crying.
-I wasn't that bad was I?
Tries to laugh through the tears.
-It’s your dad.
-What about him?
-He's been shot.
Chapter 19
I remember I stood there, not fully dry, waiting for the punch line that never came. I dropped the towel and ran over to my wardrobe and put on whatever clothes that came to hand.
- Where?
- At the
Gurteen Road turn off
- Down the fucking road? Where are my fucking runners?
- Out by the back door
- What the fuck are they doing down there?
- The smell off them was rotten. I had to let some air at them. Jack sit down please
- What the fuck is she putting them out there for what are you putting them out there for?
Then a knock at the door, duly ignored.
- I knew something was up with him, can you go down and see who's at the door?
She sat still on the corner of the bed for a few seconds and looked pleadingly at me like she wanted me to cry too but I couldn't even I pinched the inside of my thigh. She wiped away her own tears and I did my best to not notice as I pulled my jeans up. I looked out the window at the squad car on the drive and I put my hand to my mouth as if that would hold everything in place and called out to God then turned away pulling a hooded top over my head, walking downstairs to the sound of muted conversations and radio chatter coming from the lounge. I got my runners on and walked back in to see the tears had started again, something passed between us that showed that this was only the start. I didn't look the two officers but I knew one of was the Chief Superintendent for the region, Adam Mullen and the other was his assistant, an Inspector out of Castlerea but I couldn't remember his name. I didn't like the fact the top dog had come out to my house. I advised them that they need to go see my mother and that I was ok and I would make my own way down. I was told that officers were already out there and it was advisable that I went with them in case I would contaminate the scene and straight away did I know who would have done such a thing, no sorry for your loss, no time for grieving, but I knew the questions had to be asked. I was aware that my Da had died but I didn't consider the notion of him being murdered. I felt like a child being guided unable to have a single thought of my own as everything had seemed to shut down.
- Let's go lads
A couple of days later, I walked into the police station, drained and angry. I avoided the parasitic press who leached round town, and repeatedly phoned up my house asking for a response to my mum’s comments in the Sunday World.
The investigation was being led out of Dublin. That's where I met my boss, he was a Inspector on the cusp of retirement.
Sarah and I had given our statements. The interviewing Gard kept looking down Sarah's top as she was leant forward crying. The other Gard, saw the look on my face and my clenched fists and asked the younger Gard to leave the room. Sarah looked up confused and I shrugged my shoulders feigning confusion too. I nodded my thanks to the older Gard who carried on regardless. It was formulaic, it was bullshit.
I'd asked to speak to the Governor, I was told he was at the station. I was asked if I wanted a ride. I said I was more than capable. I was told I was going to drive past the scene. I said I fucking knew where I was going.
Sarah cried even more. I couldn't handle it. I was strung out like a taught washing line.
When I parked up outside the nick, like flies to shit, the press swarmed ‘round my car. I sat there, hands clenched round the steering wheel, eyes firmly closed. I wanted to put my fists in my ears to block out;
-Jack, how are you feeling?
-What do you think of what your mum said?
-When will you be back at work?
I am back at work you stupid cunts. There were an old pair of grannies who had been walking past the station oblivious but when they saw the furore, they stopped and stared like stone angels. I felt like running them over, they were slipping off this mortal coil and my dad got unfairly pushed off.
I got both hands on the handle of the door and forced it open as if suffocating for the air outside. A couple of the journalists fell back including that cunt Johnny Creebie, who reports for RTE. I was so tempted to stamp on his face, but I saw the photographers and I held back seeing as my mother had already done enough damage
-Jack was your dad really a rapist?
I walked through them as if they were wisps of fog. They may have had the ear of the nation but they valued their own ears.
I got in to the reception, another couple of Gards that I didn't recognise were standing sentry duty, preventing unsavoury characters like myself from entering. But I was a cop - whose cop father had just been shot and killed, they knew to let me pass.
A little-Hilter desk sergeant, Sgt Brennan, was sat on his high chair behind the desk. Part traveller, part inner-city Dubliner, part experiment that went wrong. He had his favourites in the lower ranks, and he had the ear of the chief- super who was more insane than he was. I was never one of his favourites, even though he knew my figures were good. When anyone worth sucking up to was around, he always used to say in his whingey whiny voice that I gave 110%. He made my skin crawl.
I'd already made up my mind I had to get out of here.
-Clancy, you’re on leave.
-I am - so leave me the fuck alone.
-How dare you talk to your superior like that.
-What is it with that fucking voice of yours you little cunt? I could tell you your mother’s a whore, you could put in a complaint and I won't even get a slap on the wrists, post-traumatic stress darling.
-Gard Clancy?
-Inspector Daly?
-Come with me please.
-Inspector Daly, are you going to let Gard Clancy speak to a sergeant like that?
-Yes, yes I am, now fuck up before I turn the CCTV off and let Gard Clancy really let you know what he thinks of you.
Inspector Daly held the door open to me and it would be eight years before I darkened those doors again.
It wasn't a statement as such, just more the bits I wanted to discuss out of Sarah's ear shot. Although there appears to be no apparent motive, I couldn't think of anyone who would have a score to settle with him, not like that anyway. I laughed when I said the only person I could think of was my mother but she wouldn't have been able to focus. Daly still wrote it down and commented that her comments in the press put the whole investigation in jeopardy because he's been asked if he was investigating an offence rape or murder.
I said don't worry nobody ever listened to her and suggested she got sectioned. Then I told him what happened that night when I was 16. He didn't write that down. The commissioner was coming down too with a representative from Sinn Fein. I asked why. Off the record, a lad got arrested in Derry after a cache of weapons was found in the boot of his car and he's been saying that my father’s murder could have been an IRA hit. Was he fucking serious? If it was the 'RA my dad would have been buried next to Shergar, sure he was only buried down the road. Daly agreed but Sinn Fein see it, sadly, as good publicity in the republic to be seen condoning publicly the killing of a Gard. Fucking politicians.
- The application forms to join the Gards.
- What for?
- So I can join the Gards, actually bring two, Glen wants one too.
- I wouldn't be sure if it’s for him?
- Why?
- Dunno, just can't see him taking it seriously.
- Well, we'll soon find out. I'll see you in Raffertys at seven?
- Sound.
We got fast tracked into Templemore. Not even six months later Glen and I said goodbye to Boyle. Sarah was still not fully aware of my reasoning. Problem was, she got the reasons, she just didn't want to get them.
I wanted to stop people like my dad getting away with what he did. I wanted to stop Irishmen running away to America, and hold them accountable for their crimes over here. I wanted to be stronger and faster and protect the people who couldn't protect themselves. I couldn't do all these things just as me.
Three years later, I finished top of the class and got a commendation from the Commissioner. At my passing out, and for the second time since that night when I was 16, my parents sat together in their finest. Sarah sat next to them like their mute daughter. My dad was right about Glen, he found training difficult and had to retake a few exams, but in the last couple of months he seemed hell bent on joining me at the passing out and never left his room.
I was 25 and out on the N4 doing traffic offences, not what I'd fucking signed up for. I had really wanted a stint in Dublin where the real action was, but a few officers in Boyle had retired, and my dad had gone up to the Chief Super and personally requested Glen and I be based in Boyle. Thanks a fucking bunch dad.
Chapter 18
It was the 20th march 2004, there was fuck all going on out on the road. A couple of break light offences and some young fat-fuck boy-racer in a civic who was doing over a tonne on a known black spot for accidents. He knew I was new, he was known to us for speeding. It was like meeting a stranger you already knew. He was giving me some mouth, asking if I had nothing better to do and surely there were other crimes more serious than speeding. He tried to make out I was in the wrong. He figured if he kept on at me, I'd forget to check his licence due to three more points technically banning him from driving. He soon shut up when I asked to see it, and told him he'd have to walk home. Fat fuck needed the exercise anyway.
It was quiet enough and I had looked forward to heading home to Sarah and a nice bottle of red.
When I eventually got back to the station, my dad was in the locker room getting ready for the dead as doornails night shift.
- Hows yourself?
- Fuck all going today, got Lorcan's car picked up, made him walk home.
- Fat fucker needs the exercise.
- That’s what I told him.
I wanted to get away from this small talk, still pissed at the fact I was in the one place I wanted to get away from. Looking at my old man with his top off, his flesh looked like melted wax over a firm muscular candle, it was fair to say that he had looked withdrawn. He wanted the conversation over more than I did. This tipped me towards curiosity.
- You ok?
- Aye, just not getting enough sleep and you know, its hard trying to balance everything.
- Such as?
- Work and when your off, and your pal has called in sick again, fucking threw him a bone to work with me but he's got the shits. He's giving me the shits.
- Want me to have a word?
- Ah no, I'm keeping an eye on him. You ok?
- Ah yeah.
- Give my love to Sarah.
- Will do.
- Jack?
- What?
Silence.
- Nothing.
And that was the last time I saw him. Not sure if he wanted to tell me something. Would it have been easier to think that's what he was trying to do, was it my subconscious trying to find a "that must have been it" answer? Just the whole "nothing" thing got to me.
And I never forgave Glen for throwing a sickie - due to being out on the rip the previous night with some mates up in Enniskillen. Things could have been so different.
Would anything have been as easy?
When I got home, the stereo in the bathroom was on playing Jeff Buckley. I took my jacket off, and slung it over one of the dining room chairs. I looked in the microwave to see if there was any hot food in there, there was more hope of finding intelligent life in Limerick. There was no point in looking in the oven but I looked on the off chance. Maybe if I had a chisel, I'd be able to scrape something off the baking tray but I didn't mind my life at that moment. I went to the liquor cabinet in the living room. Sarah's folks had left it fully stocked even after their move to Spain. I took out a 18 year old Jameson, poured out a measure large enough to kill a small dog, got a couple of ice cubes out of the freezer and sat in one of the oversized armchairs with the lights turned off and sipped the drink. I looked out the large front window to the fields opposite and thought that this was the life. I'd pushed the conversation with my dad to the back of my mind and agreed with myself that I'd speak with him tomorrow.
Sarah had turned up the stereo, I could hear Last Goodbye as clearly as if it were being played in the next room. I hummed the song and then Sarah started singing and a strangled cat came to mind.
- Fuck sake.
I climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones, like she'd be able to hear them over the dulcet tones of Mr Buckley, pressed myself against the door and knocked on it.
- Room service.
I opened the door to a fully submerged Sarah, and more steam than a Turkish sauna. I stood over her, hands on hips and paused the CD. She shot up and screamed as she was forced back into the bath, splashing water all over me and onto the floor.
- Ahhh, you bastard.
- Sorry - thought someone was being killed in here with all that screaming.
- You can talk.
I leant over and gave her a kiss and she cupped a handful of water and threw it over my shirt.
- Fuck sake Sarah.
- Oops, you’re going to have to take that off now.
I didn't have to ask twice but there was no way I'd get in that bath it was only big enough for me and I didn't fancy having the skin peeled off me the heat she has her baths at. So I took off my shirt, pulled the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, casting my eyes over her body, the curves she hated round her hips and tummy. She never listened to all the compliments I gave her, but if I had ever said yeah - I agree you need to go on a diet, she'd hang my nuts from the nearest lamp post.
- Perv.
- What?
She took the plug out and shot her arm out for a towel, which I grabbed off the rail. She stood up.
- Why are you so red?
- Got waxed earlier.
- Oh right.
- Think it’s just a reaction to the stuff they use, it'll have gone down by tomorrow.
She got out the bath, wrapped in the towel I got her and I grabbed another one off the rail for her hair. I walked into the bedroom and got out of my work trousers, then remembered to kick off my shoes. I was looking round for a pair of jeans and Sarah walked into the room.
- What you doing?
- Looking for my jeans.
- Not just yet.
She took the towel covering her body off and dropped it on the floor, second towel still wrapped round her hair. She looked like a revolutionary Hindu. She walked over to me and tripped as the towel she dropped had caught round her feet, falling into me unceremoniously.
My laughter drowned out the slapping and I fell back onto the bed, pulling Sarah back with me, the towel on her head slipped off and fell between us. I pulled a face, going cross-eyed and sticking my tongue out, when she pulled the towel off, she let out a little squeal.
- Sexy.
Normal face:
- Why thank you.
She gave me a kiss her wet hair covering my face.
- Now where are we.
As her hand went down, pinching my skin and then scratching me with her nails.
- Careful.
- Sorry.
She got her hand under my jocks, I was already hard. She smiled a cheeky smile, disappearing down onto her knees
- Hard day at work?
- Very.
- Ahhh, poor baby.
And then silence as her mouth went around me. I gasped a little, she had chewing gum or a mint in her mouth and it made me tingle. The angle I was at, my legs were on the floor and my torso was laying flat on the bed, it was killing my back.
- Hold on, let me get comfortable, this is killing my back.
Sarah knelt back as I pulled myself fully on the bed. She stood up and climbed onto the bed and on top of me, grabbed my cock with one hand and positioned it under her. Her hair was matted all over her face. As she slid down I moved all the wet hair out of the way. When I was fully inside her she arched her back and then leant forward to kiss me, I could feel the peaks and troughs of her spine under my fingers as they moved down, and I grabbed her arse. This was all going to be over before it had started, as she gained momentum I could feel the great need to cum. I closed my eyes and focussed on my hands squeezing her arse and not her face or bouncing boobs. I was working in five second time slots, just another five seconds, just another five seconds. Sarah started groaning which wasn't helping my cause.
-Dig your nails in.
-What?
-Dig your nails into my shoulders, it will give me something to focus on.
And she fucking dug them in boy, the scars have only recently gone, but this seemed to have turned her on, this new concept of dishing out pain and as I yelled out –
-For fuck sake!
Sarah sped up, pushing her palms into my chest and using that force to get a bit of lift. I didn't want to complain about her hurting me or cracking my ribs but she shouted out that she was cuming and I could feel her pelvic floor start to squeeze so I knew I could crack on and as she was dying down, I came. She lay on me for a few moments, her panting, me biting my tongue.
-I'll have to have another shower now.
-And I'll have to go to the doctors.
-You asked for it.
-Not that fucking hard.
-Wimp.
I knew this wasn't going to end well.
-Right you ready, I'm getting off now.
-I'll turn away from ya.
-OK, after three. one, two, three
Turning away didn't help.
-Nice.
-Jesus were you saving that up?
-Well, it’s been so long you know.
-You can fuck right off.
-I’m in the shower first.
Springing up out of bed, my cum dripping down my leg and I bolt it over to the bathroom, locking the door to a fist-banging, laughing Sarah.
-Ya bastard Clancy. Shall we get a takeout?
-What do you fancy?
-Mings.
-Ah, you twisted me arm.
I could hear her bare feet padding down the stairs. She shouts back out to me
-The usual?
-Please.
I turn on the shower and its lukewarm.
-You used all the fucking hot water.
She doesn't hear or doesn't care but I un pause the CD of Jeff Buckley, and fast forward it to Lilac Wine, and have the quickest shower known to man.
I towel off, suds still in my hair and go back into the bedroom.
Sarah is sat naked on the bed and crying.
-I wasn't that bad was I?
Tries to laugh through the tears.
-It’s your dad.
-What about him?
-He's been shot.
Chapter 19
I remember I stood there, not fully dry, waiting for the punch line that never came. I dropped the towel and ran over to my wardrobe and put on whatever clothes that came to hand.
- Where?
- At the
Gurteen Road turn off
- Down the fucking road? Where are my fucking runners?
- Out by the back door
- What the fuck are they doing down there?
- The smell off them was rotten. I had to let some air at them. Jack sit down please
- What the fuck is she putting them out there for what are you putting them out there for?
Then a knock at the door, duly ignored.
- I knew something was up with him, can you go down and see who's at the door?
She sat still on the corner of the bed for a few seconds and looked pleadingly at me like she wanted me to cry too but I couldn't even I pinched the inside of my thigh. She wiped away her own tears and I did my best to not notice as I pulled my jeans up. I looked out the window at the squad car on the drive and I put my hand to my mouth as if that would hold everything in place and called out to God then turned away pulling a hooded top over my head, walking downstairs to the sound of muted conversations and radio chatter coming from the lounge. I got my runners on and walked back in to see the tears had started again, something passed between us that showed that this was only the start. I didn't look the two officers but I knew one of was the Chief Superintendent for the region, Adam Mullen and the other was his assistant, an Inspector out of Castlerea but I couldn't remember his name. I didn't like the fact the top dog had come out to my house. I advised them that they need to go see my mother and that I was ok and I would make my own way down. I was told that officers were already out there and it was advisable that I went with them in case I would contaminate the scene and straight away did I know who would have done such a thing, no sorry for your loss, no time for grieving, but I knew the questions had to be asked. I was aware that my Da had died but I didn't consider the notion of him being murdered. I felt like a child being guided unable to have a single thought of my own as everything had seemed to shut down.
- Let's go lads
A couple of days later, I walked into the police station, drained and angry. I avoided the parasitic press who leached round town, and repeatedly phoned up my house asking for a response to my mum’s comments in the Sunday World.
The investigation was being led out of Dublin. That's where I met my boss, he was a Inspector on the cusp of retirement.
Sarah and I had given our statements. The interviewing Gard kept looking down Sarah's top as she was leant forward crying. The other Gard, saw the look on my face and my clenched fists and asked the younger Gard to leave the room. Sarah looked up confused and I shrugged my shoulders feigning confusion too. I nodded my thanks to the older Gard who carried on regardless. It was formulaic, it was bullshit.
I'd asked to speak to the Governor, I was told he was at the station. I was asked if I wanted a ride. I said I was more than capable. I was told I was going to drive past the scene. I said I fucking knew where I was going.
Sarah cried even more. I couldn't handle it. I was strung out like a taught washing line.
When I parked up outside the nick, like flies to shit, the press swarmed ‘round my car. I sat there, hands clenched round the steering wheel, eyes firmly closed. I wanted to put my fists in my ears to block out;
-Jack, how are you feeling?
-What do you think of what your mum said?
-When will you be back at work?
I am back at work you stupid cunts. There were an old pair of grannies who had been walking past the station oblivious but when they saw the furore, they stopped and stared like stone angels. I felt like running them over, they were slipping off this mortal coil and my dad got unfairly pushed off.
I got both hands on the handle of the door and forced it open as if suffocating for the air outside. A couple of the journalists fell back including that cunt Johnny Creebie, who reports for RTE. I was so tempted to stamp on his face, but I saw the photographers and I held back seeing as my mother had already done enough damage
-Jack was your dad really a rapist?
I walked through them as if they were wisps of fog. They may have had the ear of the nation but they valued their own ears.
I got in to the reception, another couple of Gards that I didn't recognise were standing sentry duty, preventing unsavoury characters like myself from entering. But I was a cop - whose cop father had just been shot and killed, they knew to let me pass.
A little-Hilter desk sergeant, Sgt Brennan, was sat on his high chair behind the desk. Part traveller, part inner-city Dubliner, part experiment that went wrong. He had his favourites in the lower ranks, and he had the ear of the chief- super who was more insane than he was. I was never one of his favourites, even though he knew my figures were good. When anyone worth sucking up to was around, he always used to say in his whingey whiny voice that I gave 110%. He made my skin crawl.
I'd already made up my mind I had to get out of here.
-Clancy, you’re on leave.
-I am - so leave me the fuck alone.
-How dare you talk to your superior like that.
-What is it with that fucking voice of yours you little cunt? I could tell you your mother’s a whore, you could put in a complaint and I won't even get a slap on the wrists, post-traumatic stress darling.
-Gard Clancy?
-Inspector Daly?
-Come with me please.
-Inspector Daly, are you going to let Gard Clancy speak to a sergeant like that?
-Yes, yes I am, now fuck up before I turn the CCTV off and let Gard Clancy really let you know what he thinks of you.
Inspector Daly held the door open to me and it would be eight years before I darkened those doors again.
It wasn't a statement as such, just more the bits I wanted to discuss out of Sarah's ear shot. Although there appears to be no apparent motive, I couldn't think of anyone who would have a score to settle with him, not like that anyway. I laughed when I said the only person I could think of was my mother but she wouldn't have been able to focus. Daly still wrote it down and commented that her comments in the press put the whole investigation in jeopardy because he's been asked if he was investigating an offence rape or murder.
I said don't worry nobody ever listened to her and suggested she got sectioned. Then I told him what happened that night when I was 16. He didn't write that down. The commissioner was coming down too with a representative from Sinn Fein. I asked why. Off the record, a lad got arrested in Derry after a cache of weapons was found in the boot of his car and he's been saying that my father’s murder could have been an IRA hit. Was he fucking serious? If it was the 'RA my dad would have been buried next to Shergar, sure he was only buried down the road. Daly agreed but Sinn Fein see it, sadly, as good publicity in the republic to be seen condoning publicly the killing of a Gard. Fucking politicians.
