Tag Archives: innocent deaths

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Bloody Sunday 50

Derry is a complicated place with a questionable reputation. The city has been called everything in the book from quaint and charming to militant and scary, and the truth is that it is all of these things and more. At once Derry is old, angry, exhausted, resigned, and stagnant but it is also young, vibrant, somewhat progressive, grudgingly forgiving, and ready for change. It’s a place full of whispering ghosts, frustrated wails, clanking flagpoles, and joyful, laughing children. If you’ve ever been there, chances are the city has stayed with you no matter what your impression of it was. It’s easy to be haunted by a city when that city itself is haunted.

Trauma doesn’t only affect those who witness terrible events. It is also the pain and suffering that is passed down from generation to generation, lingering in the shadows even when you think it is finally gone. Sometimes Derry feels like a testament to this kind of generational trauma. You can feel the ache in the very bones of the city, and you can sense the suspicious eyes following you in various parts of town. Dark alleys and dead ends can lead to street violence and rough justice, and there’s an uneasy feeling of lawlessness in the dead of night, thanks to the population’s healthy (and understandable) distrust of authorities. Still, Derry strives to heal and improve. It demands acknowledgment and recourse for the injustices it has faced, but it is also a beacon of cultural change, political compromise, and relative peace. That there could ever be peace where so many tragedies have happened is remarkable in itself and couldn’t be achieved without the city’s unwavering people. ‘Something inside so strong,’ indeed.

One of Derry’s most well-known tragedies is the Bloody Sunday Massacre which happened an unbelievable fifty years ago. On Jan. 30th, 1972 the British Army opened fire on innocent civilians during an anti-internment march. Thirteen men were instantly killed, another died later from his wounds. At least another fifteen people were shot by the soldiers before someone finally put a muzzle on them and made them stop firing. It seems impossible that so much time has passed since that day and yet the excruciating and never-ending search for justice has trudged on forever. The scars from this state-sanctioned mass murder are still everywhere you look in Derry and most have not healed. How do you cope with the loss of friends and family members when generations have been denied their proper recourse or closure? How can you heal from something so brutal without any justice? The short answer is that you don’t and when you visit the city of Derry, you know it. Its lion’s share of tragedy is impossible to ignore.

Bloody Sunday shocked the world to its core and changed the political landscape of this region forever. The level of aggression was something the people were not used to at that time and even though the British Army had said they would be cracking down on the Irish Republican Army (IRA) in Derry no one expected them to start firing at a march that was mostly peaceful and full of women and children. Ironically, the IRA had recently fractured and was on what arguably could have been its last legs until those shots were fired. Almost before the dust and CS gas settled, money and volunteers from all over the world were pouring into Derry. The nearly empty coffers of every Irish paramilitary organization were suddenly overflowing. With their blatant disregard for life and reckless shooting, the English soldiers guaranteed that they’d receive the same in kind and they did, for decades to come.

The authorities tried to stem the flow of funds and fighters by claiming that all of their innocent victims were bombers, snipers, and other “legitimate” targets. This only infuriated the region and inflamed the world. Thanks to brave photographers and their anonymous helpers, investigative reporters, strong survivors, reliable witnesses, and generations of determined family members, the truth did prevail and the innocent victims were finally recognized as such. However, as their families and descendants know all too well, the truth is not always enough. They still fight for justice, fifty long years later.

Derry’s many terrible tales are often told by those who are most affected by them. When you’re navigating the maze of streets in the Bogside, you’ll probably run into the son of one of the Bloody Sunday victims who takes visitors on a walking tour, reliving and retelling the tale every day. Families of the lost will lead you through a museum that chronicles the tragic deaths of their loved ones so that you better understand the cost of the conflict known as “the Troubles.” Old men and barflies will tell you amazing stories of the people and the area over pints in the pub. These oral histories will break your heart wide open, but they also might fill it again. The city will get under your skin whether you like it or not, but if you’re lucky it’ll also teach you a thing or two about life, love, friendship, struggle, and the incredible solidarity that humans are capable of, even in the face of the worst horrors we could ever inflict on one another.

The legacy of Bloody Sunday is just as complicated as the town itself but that amazing fortitude is a huge and important part of it. That stoic determination is one of the only tools that the families and survivors have to fight back against all the injustices that they continue to face. Please support them if you can. Take their tours, buy their books, learn their stories. Listen to them when they speak. Follow their cases and amplify their voices. Learn about what happened and how to help if you can. You don’t have to be local to Derry either. If you’re trapped in other parts of the world read some history books, or watch some movies and/or documentaries on Bloody Sunday and share that you did (in real life or on social media) leading up to this weekend. There are Sunday masses and remembrance events in the US this weekend in PA, NY, & CA (at least) and there are many more across Europe and the world. Attend one if you can so that the people of Derry know we remember them and that we still honor the survivors and victims of Bloody Sunday, even if fifty years have passed.

One world. One struggle.

*To learn more about current Bloody Sunday commemorations in Derry or to donate to them, please click here.

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Lyra McKee

Sometimes it seems that there’s never anything but tragic news coming out of Derry. I have to remind myself that there are plenty of wonderful things happening in the town I love so well and so many wonderful people who call it home…but yesterday as I sought those out my heart sank yet again. The headlines screamed out the news of a young woman who was killed in the crossfire on the city streets and it broke my heart.

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Dublin’s Bloody Sunday

When one thinks of Bloody Sunday, what usually comes to mind is the 1972 civil rights march in Derry, where English soldiers opened fire on marchers and brutally murdered fourteen innocent people. This incident shocked the world and spilled over into pop culture leading to multiple songs, movies, documentaries and more – making it one of the most notorious moments in Irish history. It was not the first “Bloody Sunday” in Ireland, but (thankfully) it was the last. There have been four dreadful days known as Bloody Sunday in recent Irish history and the second (and most deadly) one occurred on this date, November 21st, 1920, in Dublin.

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Greysteel Devil’s Night Massacre

The conflict known as the Troubles was a long war on many fronts. There were some people fighting against those they saw as invaders and oppressors and others fighting to show how loyal they were to the country they felt part of. There was also a propaganda war being fought as various groups tried to reach sympathetic audiences (and large pocketbooks) around the world. The third battleground was the deadliest of all and it was comprised of all the tit-for-tat, mostly Sectarian killings between various paramilitary groups. This last front resulted in the vast majority of civilian deaths throughout the region and it was the hardest to prepare for or justify. It includes the Devil’s Night massacre at the Rising Sun bar in Greysteel, which happened on this day in 1993.

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The Unknown Heroine of Bloody Sunday

On January 30th, 1972, thirteen innocent people were murdered and twenty-eight were shot during an anti-internment march through the Bogside area of Derry.  Another innocent victim died later as a result of his injuries, bringing the total number of fatalities to fourteen. That bleak day became known as Bloody Sunday. At first the soldiers and the English government tried to claim that all who had been shot or killed were armed, dangerous, and/or members of the Irish Republican Army. Witness statements backed up with photographic evidence, forensics, and videos helped disprove their lies but it took nearly forty years and the most expensive inquiry in English history to finally exonerate the victims.

An anonymous teenage girl who would now probably be in her mid-to-late sixties made a quick and pivotal choice on Bloody Sunday that helped set those things in motion and has affected millions of people since. As she and her friends wandered through the aftermath of the Bogside Massacre, a stranger approached them. He quickly explained that authorities had begun searching people nearby and he had some rolls of film he needed to hide. This young girl quickly put the film in her underwear, assuming that her undergarments would not be searched if she were stopped. She was either not stopped or was correct in that assumption because later she met the man, Gilles Peress, at a hotel where she handed over his rolls of film and then promptly vanished. Peress drove straight out of Derry that night with his precious cargo and never saw the blonde girl again.

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Oakland — lightandthunder

Sometimes I have to write about places closer to home, or people as the case may be. When I do, I use a different blog – and today I thought to share.

The city of Oakland has a long history of civil unrest, political activism, militant citizen groups, edgy art, underground activities, and a blatant distrust for the authorities. This is not without reason. It also has a history of corrupt city leaders, murder, criminal enterprise, police brutality, city-sponsored displacement and gentrification, and swift vigilante justice. This […]

via Oakland — lightandthunder

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The Death of Innocence

Annette McGavigan was only eleven years old when the Troubles erupted in the North of Ireland. Her home was in Derry, one of the major flashpoints of the Troubles and a stronghold of the Provisional Irish Republican Army. She and the other children of the area witnessed more conflict than any child should within those first few years. She would have seen the British Army rolling into her city, bringing CS gas, rubber bullets, violence and protest with them. Riot after riot broke out and civil rights marches, anti-internment protests, and anti-police incidents were frequent and violent. These things probably became rather commonplace over the next few years for Annette and the other children who were growing up in areas like Creggan, Little Diamond, and the Bogside.

On Sept. 6th, 1971, when Annette was only fourteen, Catholic schools were closed in Derry. Teachers were taking part in a week-long anti-internment program. This left the schoolchildren with free time. Some joined the protests and riots and others stayed in. Once a small riot had ended on the edge of the Bogside, Annette and her friends went out to collect the leftovers of the violence. Children regularly gathered rubber bullets, gas canisters and more after each riot in Derry and this day off from school gave Annette the perfect opportunity to hunt for these dangerous souvenirs. As the young girl in a school uniform picked up an empty cartridge, a shot rang out. She likely never knew what hit her.

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The Lady of Bachelors Walk

On this day 102 years ago, a large shipment of arms landed in Howth, destined for the Irish Volunteers. Many of these guns were used two years later during the Easter Rising of 1916 and without them, the Rising may never have happened at all. When the Asgard came to shore it was met by the Fianna Éireann and other Volunteers who were quick to unload the weapons and begin carting them off. They hoped to avoid the attention of the police, but their mission did not pass unnoticed. The authorities who were watching did not engage the large crowd but they did call for backup. As the Volunteers left the area they were met by the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, a regiment of the British Army. A tussle ensued but in the end, the soldiers were only able to confiscate a mere nineteen of the nine hundred guns brought into Ireland that day.

News spread quickly of the successful smuggling operation and the military’s failure to seize most of the weapons so by the time the Borderers were marching back into Dublin, crowds had already gathered to celebrate and to mock them. They antagonized the soldiers, taunting them and throwing rubbish and fruit at the column (which magically became stones in the official reports). They shouted insults and openly laughed at the troops and their failed mission. Soldiers and police officers never tolerate this kind of behavior for long (as they continue to prove to this day) and by the time they marched onto Bachelors Walk they had had enough of the hostile crowd. The soldiers turned to face the people and seconds later shots were fired directly into the busy street, hitting those who had been following them and innocent civilians alike. They followed the volley of bullets with a bayonet charge. The collective lack of self control from the army resulted in four casualties and nearly forty others were injured.

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Gerry Conlon R.I.P.

Gerry Conlon may be the single most influential person when it comes to who got me into studying Irish politics. The Guildford Four case was riveting for me and it showed just how cruel and scared absolutely everyone was in the heart of the conflict known colloquially as the Troubles. His case was a close second to the Easter Rising of 1916 in my favorite stories of tragic Irish triumph.

On June 21st, 2014 at 4AM California time, I found out that Gerry Conlon had passed away and I actually shed a tear. This marked the first time I  cried over a celebrity passing away since Johnny Cash, and I am pretty sure that it only happened those two times. I was heartbroken and I almost got up then to write about it but I wasn’t awake enough  to articulate the utter sadness of this news.

For those that may not know his story, early in 1975, Gerry Conlon and three other young adults were arrested in connection to the IRA bombing of the Guildford Pub. Despite having nothing to do with the IRA or the bombings, they were convicted and sentenced to life in prison…thankfully, since if they’d been sentenced to death, they all would have been dead before their convictions were quashed. Before they were eventually released, another seven innocent people were convicted of aiding them in this incident – including many of Conlon’s family members and his father, Giuseppe Conlon. Guiseppe never strayed from proclaiming his innocence and he remained hopeful that the miscarriage of justice would be overturned, but Gerry did not. Gerry did not have the fortitude of belief of his father.

Guiseppe Conlon died in prison an innocent man. Years and years later, his son – who found the fighter in himself shortly after the tragic death of his dad, eventually walked out of the courthouse through the front door over fifteen years later when his conviction was quashed, proving to the world that the Guildford Four and the Maguire Seven had been wrongly convicted. The blockbuster movie “In the Name of the Father” was based on these real life events and is an amazing film. If you haven’t seen it, go find it now. Seriously. It took over fifteen years for the police to admit they had made mistakes and purposefully suppressed evidence in order to convict these men and women…none of whom fit any profile or had any paramilitary or political ties.

I was sixteen when they released Gerry and I remember seeing the footage of him leaving the courthouse. It was one of my first forays into Irish politics – and it was a story that led to another, to another, and to another. More than twenty-five years later, I can point to Gerry Conlon as one of the reasons that I fell in love with Irish history. His story had a profound effect on my psyche. Unfortunately his story does not have the Hollywood ending that he so deserved. He struggled with depression, suicide, and addiction since the day he was finally released – and really, who wouldn’t? I cannot find fault in the need to try to erase what has happened to you and your family in whatever way you can. Still, Conlon made it to sixty years of age and was a published author and an activist in other cases that he felt were rigged or unfair. He died on this day in 2014 in Belfast and even now I am still a little teary as I write those words. I wish I had met him – it actually was a thing I had hoped to do someday – just to tell him what a profound impact his story had on shaping who I am and what my interests are. Sixty is too young for many but for Gerry Conlon it was a pretty amazing feat, given that he spent over 15 of them wrongly convicted in the harshest prisons.

His family says it better than anyone else could. In a statement issued through his lawyer Gareth Peirce, they said: “He brought life, love, intelligence, wit and strength to our family through its darkest hours. He helped us to survive what we were not meant to survive. We thank him for his life and we thank all his many friends for their love.”

Rest in Peace Mr. Conlon. Your story and your fight will forever be inspiring and triumphant. I am sorry you lived it and I am thankful for the impact it had on me.  I hope you see your father again.