Gangster (21 page)

O’Mahony and Hanley eased back into their chairs. It was over.

Chapter 15

The Usual Suspects

‘John’s only answer to everything was “I’ll bump him off.”’

MICHAEL GRIMES

When Guerin was shot, Gilligan’s world changed irrevocably. He could spend only a few days in any one place at any time. He correctly suspected that every police force in Europe was looking for him. His instinct, a trait he heavily relied on, told him he was being followed. Paranoia consumed him. The criminals he listed as friends now shunned him. He was fast losing control of the gang at a time when he needed them most. He found himself trapped in London with hundreds of thousands of pounds, which he needed to smuggle to Amsterdam. With no one available to transport the cash, he was put in the position of doing the unthinkable—carrying it himself. This was risky. Ever since he had threatened the staff in Holyhead, he was wary about making a mistake on British soil. Her Majesty’s Customs would be looking for him. Although he didn’t know it at the time, this assumption was correct. Roger Wilson had made sure Gilligan’s name and passport number remained on the intelligence database. He believed that it would only be a matter of time before the pint-sized Gilligan made a mistake.

Gilligan did just that on the morning of Friday, 4 October, when he presented himself at the KLM ticket sales desk wanting to purchase a ticket for a flight bound for Amsterdam the next day. He paid for the ticket in cash. There was no problem. The next day he checked in late, just 30 minutes before his flight was due to depart. His only luggage was a metallic, hard-backed suitcase, which he pulled along with little difficulty. He said he’d carry it on board as hand luggage. It weighed just 23 kilos. His decision to check in late sparked off a security warning on the airline’s computer, which immediately alerted Customs intelligence staff at Heathrow. The names of all passengers who arrive late for outbound flights are referred to Customs for security checks. The intelligence staff didn’t pay too much attention to the referral until one recognised Gilligan’s name. He took the flight details and logged on to SEDRIC, the Customs database of criminal intelligence. Gilligan’s name showed up.

A surveillance team was mobilised. By the time Gilligan was located, he was already boarding the flight. They learned that he was due to return on another flight later that day and decided to wait. He never showed up then, but he did the next morning, on 6 October, when he did the same thing. Obviously he had re-entered the UK by another means of flight and perhaps under another name. He made his way towards the KLM flight desk and purchased a ticket for flight No. KL120. It was bound for Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. He handed over a fistful of notes. With the ticket in one hand and the suitcase in the other, he checked in late. The receptionist glanced at his photograph and smiled before handing him a boarding card. She looked at the suitcase but before she could say a word, he interjected: ‘That’s hand luggage.’ She said it was necessary to weigh it to make sure. It weighed 23 kilos. He went to the departures lounge. This time, Customs were waiting for him. He didn’t notice the officers staring at him from the security gate until it was too late to turn back. One stepped forward and asked him if he had anything to declare. He said he didn’t.

They took him aside into a small room. He still had a firm grip on his suitcase. He was asked to open it, which he did. Inside was a pillow and a shirt. There was an anti-bugging device and a loan agreement for IR£4 million from a Lebanese man, Joseph Saouma. There were also bookies’ cheques. The officer searched further, moving his hands about. In the bottom, he felt soft plastic. He gently removed the pillow to uncover a package enfolded in bubble-wrap. It was filled with notes. Inside was £330,000 in sterling, Northern Irish sterling and Irish currency.

The blood drained from Gilligan’s face. Alone in the room, he knew he was in the hands of the same security agency whose members years before he had tormented and threatened. He was placed under arrest for concealing money in order to avoid a drugs charge. More Customs staff entered the room. He was then taken away for interrogation which lasted two days.

With audacious calm, Gilligan started explaining that he was on his way to Amsterdam to go horse racing and to look at property. He pointed at the suitcase. ‘It’s all legal and above board,’ he said.

The interrogation continued with various teams of officers coming and going. They carried with them bundles of files, listing names, passenger and flight details. He asked to call his solicitor but was told he could not. The day passed with more officers arriving. These were more senior and clearly knew more about him than the others. During one of the changeovers, he rang Geraldine using his mobile, which had not been taken from him. ‘They’ve got the three hundred grand . . .’ He was interrupted midway through the call and hung up.

Two days later, he was not in the frame of mind to answer any more questions and he asked if he was going to be charged.

‘Yes, Mr Gilligan, you are,’ said one of the Customs men. The gangster went pale. The next day, he was brought before Uxbridge Magistrates’ Court on a charge of concealing or transferring his proceeds of drug trafficking under Section 49(1)(a) of the Drug Trafficking Act 1994. It was a routine court appearance. He was remanded to Wormwood Scrubs Prison.

Across the Irish Sea, Gilligan’s cartel was slowly being dismantled. Bowden was brought before Kilmainham District Court surrounded by tight security. He was charged with various offences and remanded to Mountjoy Prison. It was a theatrical act played out by both sides to fool the others still at large. It worked, sending them all into a fit of panic. In reality, they knew their days were numbered. They prepared to flee. However, if their passports were presented at Dublin Airport, they would surely be arrested. Meehan knew of a friendly garda who could solve their problem through Paul Ward, one of his associates, who collected money for the gang. In the meantime they vanished, moving out of their homes and into hotels or friends’ houses, never sleeping two nights in the one bed.

Paul Ward had found himself under suspicion because of his connection to the gang. He sought refuge in the Green Isle Hotel on the Naas Road. By chance, Ronanstown gardaí were searching for a man with a similar name in connection with an armed robbery. A tip-off to detectives resulted in his being arrested at gunpoint while he slept at the hotel early on 8 October. He was taken from the hotel and driven to Ronanstown Garda Station, arriving at 1.50 a.m. Overcome by shock, he said nothing, waiting for the inevitable. Then he was released at 2.45 a.m. He was told he was the wrong man.

The next day at 7.15 p.m. he rang John O’Neill at Tallaght Garda Station. They agreed to meet later that night. Ward gave him two passport forms and four photographs of his brother Shay, whom O’Neill immediately recognised, having charged him years before. Ward told O’Neill he believed he was going to be arrested for Guerin’s murder as part of the general round-up. They agreed to meet four days later at the Cuckoo’s Nest on the Greenhills Road at 8.20 p.m.

O’Neill did as he was told. He arrived for the meeting in his Land Rover. Ward was waiting inside and on seeing O’Neill, walked out and sat in the front passenger seat. O’Neill, never a man to worry about security, switched on the car’s internal light and handed some papers to Ward, who threw his eyes over the paperwork. O’Neill had stamped the passport applications as instructed. Neither of the conspirators took much notice of the people coming to and from the pub. They should have done.

When they finished their business, Ward jumped out and O’Neill drove home.

It was the least he could do for the gang. They had completely corrupted him. He had solicited bribes and allowed himself to plunge into criminality. When it was established that O’Neill had abandoned his moral senses, Hickey instructed the team to intercept the passport applications through the Department of Foreign Affairs. If the gang managed to reach the continent, they could disappear, possibly forever. He wanted to avoid a lengthy extradition process at all costs. He had another message for O’Neill and Ward—he ordered his officers to arrest them both.

The morning of 16 October was cold and overcast. Paul Ward’s miraculous release from custody the week before had, if nothing else, given him a sense of false security. The surprise that day was that he had returned home where he was found. Elizabeth, his mother, and Vanessa Meehan, his girlfriend, were also detained at exactly the same time. Ward was placed in a squad car and driven to Lucan Station. His girlfriend was sent to Ballyfermot, his mother driven to Cabra.

The suspect was formally registered 20 minutes later. He demanded to speak to a lawyer and requested medication. He told the police he was a heroin addict. He needed physeptone. With no preparatory talk, the police called a doctor. His name was Lionel Williams. He arrived later that day after the interviews had started. When he arrived at the station, Ward asked to be examined to see if he had injuries. The doctor did as requested but found nothing. He gave 40 milligrams of sedative in liquid form to a garda to give to the prisoner. The interviews commenced.

O’Neill heard through the grapevine about Ward’s detention but thought nothing of it. He was the most surprising of men, for it never crossed his mind that he too was in trouble. Over time, he had managed to hypnotise himself into a surreal world. He was quickly brought back to reality when at 7 p.m. the next night six gardaí arrived at his door armed with a search warrant. Detective Inspector Jerry O’Connell knocked at the door of his home in Kingswood Heights in Tallaght. A stunned O’Neill answered the door. As the detectives made their way in, O’Connell asked him if he had anything illegal in the house.

‘No. No, I don’t have anything in the house. Why would I have anything in the house? I’ve only got a sawn-off shotgun. It’s upstairs in the wardrobe,’ he said. Minutes later, the search party found the weapon. It was an air pistol. Beside it was a file marked ‘courts’. Wearing plastic gloves, detectives opened the file. Inside was a bench warrant for a girlfriend of Meehan. O’Neill was arrested and brought to Naas Garda Station where he confessed to corruption. Later that Friday night, shortly before 9 p.m., Paul Ward was charged with Guerin’s murder when he appeared before Dublin District Court. He was later convicted for the offence but this was quashed on appeal.

The gardaí proceeded to arrest others who they suspected might have information about O’Neill’s dealings with criminals. More than anything else, police management feared a scandal emanating from within their own ranks. There were persistent allegations of corruption, which through an assortment of friendly journalists were denied. They were now in the precarious position of having to charge one of their own officers. O’Neill had sung like a canary, naming the criminals who bribed him. He said he had met Paul Ward through Martin Ryan, a nightclub manager he once worked for. Ryan was questioned at Terenure Garda Station. He was one of several people who knew nothing about organised crime but had to be interviewed by the gardaí. Paul Ward had been monitored calling to his home.

Sergeant Cormac McGuiness and Garda Pauline Reid, the officers conducting the interview, got straight to the point. ‘Why did Paul Ward call to your house on Tuesday, 15 October 1996?’ asked McGuiness.

‘He just dropped in. He said he was meeting someone in the Cuckoo’s Nest. He was very agitated. He said he was meeting a bloke and he wanted to leave him dangling. He said he had five minutes to spare. He appeared to me to be in a bit of limbo. He didn’t seem to know whether to keep the appointment. He appeared to want to come into my house.’

Ryan managed the System Night Club on South Anne Street in Dublin. Meehan, Paul Ward and Mitchell were regular patrons. In an interview the next day Sergeant Michael O’Leary and Garda Andy Manning took over the interrogation. This proved more productive. He inadvertently linked Holland to the gang.

‘There’s another guy, they call him “Gene Wilder”. He’s about 50 years. He’s very thin, about 5 foot 5 inches. His name is Gene. He’s very grumpy and I tried to stop him at the door one night. He was with Aidan, Brian Meehan and a few other girls and I think “Git”. Aidan said that he was with them so I let him in. He used to come in on his own after that but he would always be with Brian Meehan and Paul Ward. Ward would come in at least once a week. They always got on well, having the craic. Sometimes “Gene” would come in with a guy called “Kellyer”. He looked like a junkie.’

‘Why did they call him Gene Wilder?’

‘´Cause he looked like him when he had the hair out frizzy. He normally has his hair tied back in a ponytail. The ponytail is shoulder length, so when it’s out it looks real frizzy.’

‘Can you tell us anything else about Gene?’

‘No, not really but he’s easy to pick out. He has a fat nose—it’s lumpy, very red and pointy. He wasn’t very clean, always T-shirts and jacket, navy or black, and trousers.’

The officer asked Ryan if he knew any gardaí. He wasn’t aware that O’Neill was in custody.

‘I know another guard from Tallaght, he’s known as “Buffalo”. He’s John O’Neill. I was at his house in Kingswood. We called to his house to get a parking fine fixed. He wasn’t in when we called but I met him on the Greenhills Road near the Cuckoo’s Nest.’

‘How many times have you been in contact with John O’Neill?’

‘About six times.’

‘What was the reason for these contacts?’

‘He was always asking me for money. I’d give it to him sometimes. He’d call to my house.’

‘What is your connection with Paul Ward and John O’Neill?’

‘John O’Neill is a great friend of Paul Ward. I don’t have anything to do with them. They have an arrangement with them and Brian Meehan. They look after him for whatever, information I suppose. I don’t like O’Neill, he’s dirt, a sponger.’

Ryan is said to have been horrified by what had happened to Guerin and had been misfortunate enough to have met Gilligan’s gang, something which had led gardaí to his door. However, O’Neill was charged the next night at a special sitting of Dublin District Court. He had resigned from the force while in custody. The hearing took less than ten minutes. The charges prompted Meehan, Mitchell, Shay Ward and Holland to leave the State immediately. The gardaí had put the Passport Office under surveillance to see if they would collect the passports O’Neill had stamped. But they never showed up.