Daily Ireland, 3 March 2006
Comparable collusion in South Africa and Tyrone
by Jarlath Kearney
03 March 2006
In recent days Peter Hain, the current direct-rule Northern secretary,
remarked that Pat Finucane’s 1989 murder “brought back memories of those I
had known in South Africa many years ago who were murdered in chillingly
similar circumstances”.
While some relatives affected by collusion have found Mr Hain’s expression
of empathy difficult to stomach, the analogy with South Africa raises
serious questions for Her Majesty’s current ‘bwana’ in Ireland.
Notably, the formal transfer of military weaponry from South Africa to the
North took place in late 1987 under the control and management of British
state employees. As Mr Hain knows, some of those state employees are still
serving as personnel under his government.
The questions raised by Mr Hain’s analogy with South Africa are thrown into
sharp relief against the brutal canvas of four murders that took place 15
years ago today.
If Mr Hain really wanted to understand what took place in 1991 at rural
Cappagh in Co Tyrone, then he should imagine an urban Soweto township in
Johannesburg around the same time.
To understand the Cappagh episode is to understand the collusion policy.
Mr Hain should imagine an area in which the concept of community forged
itself around a tight-knit and special bond of resistance against
domination, manifested mainly through the political activity of the ANC.
He should imagine an area in which that community, on a daily basis, had
their passbooks repeatedly checked, their small homes raided and smashed,
their transport searched and trashed, their schoolbags and shopping bags
emptied, men and women systematically harassed and threatened on the
roadsides – young and old alike.
He should imagine that one Sunday night the security police entered the main
social centre in the area and proceeded to take notes of the layout.
He should imagine that a week later on the following Sunday afternoon, the
local football pitch was subjected to intense surveillance by a military
helicopter hovering just a few hundred feet above the weekly match.
He should imagine that the locality was subjected to intense military
occupation throughout the course of that entire day – never mind previous
weeks and months.
Mr Hain should then imagine that the omnipresent security blanket on the
township was swiftly and inexplicably removed late on the Sunday evening.
He should imagine that a well-armed gang of racist militia – carrying modern
military-grade weaponry imported from Britain and directed by a South
African police agent – was able to slip undetected into the township.
He should imagine that the racist gang conveniently arrived outside the
local social centre around the same time as it had been raided by security
police the previous Sunday.
He should imagine that the racist gang sat and readied themselves in a
vehicle which was identical in colour and make to a local car, so it would
not be out of place.
He should imagine that the racist gang opened fire on the arrival of another
car carrying young local ANC members – leaving three dead and one wounded.
He should imagine that the racist gang then carefully and knowledgeably
fired into the social centre through a high lavatory window so that bullets
were directed at punters in the main social area, killing one middle-aged
man and wounding another.
He should imagine that the gang of racist militia then managed to mystically
vanish out of the hostile Soweto township, and disappear off into the night.
He should imagine that the security police refused to reveal the precise
ballistics histories of the weapons used.
He should imagine that the security police never secured any convictions of
any kind in relation to the racist murder mission.
He should imagine that this incident was part of a wider pattern.
And then, Mr Hain should ask himself this question: if such a shooting had
happened in Soweto in 1991, would he not have screamed collusion?
It is that British government policy of collusion which the people of
Cappagh are convinced led to the mass assassination outside O’Boyle’s pub on
March 3, 1991.
Following intense RUC and UDR focus on the pub, a UVF gang was able to enter
and leave Cappagh one Sunday night completely unmolested.
On their journey the UVF killed 23-year-old John Quinn, 20-year old Malcom
Nugent and 17-year-old Dwyane O’Donnell as they pulled up outside O’Boyle’s
in a car. A fourth passenger was wounded.
Inside O’Boyle’s, 52-year-old Thomas Armstrong was hit by shots fired into
the main bar through a fairly inaccessible toilet window located high up the
wall of the pub. Another man was injured.
The departure of the UVF gang coincided with a solitary helicopter landing
and taking-off again in the locality.
The UVF getaway car was found burned out at a nearby quarry in precisely the
same location as a previous loyalist getaway vehicle in 1972.
Speaking yesterday, relatives of the four dead men told Daily Ireland of
their demand for truth from the state about the episode.
Malcom Nugent’s sister, Siobhan Wylie, noted cynically how Crown forces were
able to stop and search cars travelling to the wakes, but had
uncharacteristically disappeared from Cappagh on the night of the shootings.
Siobhan now has a daughter of 14 who “can’t believe that the loyalists were
able to come into Cappagh” and commit their murder mission.
“Maybe we’re strong enough now to take it on. I remember the UDR raiding our
house the following year and one soldier was able to gloat and laugh about
the exact way Malcolm had jumped over a wall and tried to run down a field
before he was shot.”
John Quinn’s mother, Peggy, told Daily Ireland how the UDR had put a bullet
in her son’s pocket when they stopped him in Cappagh main street before the
murder.
“That night was the first and last time I was at bingo in Carrickmore and
afterwards a phone call came to my father’s house that there had been a
shooting in Cappagh and John was injured.
“When we went straight to the South Tyrone Hospital, I remember the police
sitting outside with big smiles on their faces.
“It’s many of the same Special Branch who are still in the police. We just
want the truth now. Who sanctioned it?” Peggy pleaded.
Thomas Armstrong’s brother Mickey recalled his elderly mother’s hurt at
never getting the truth about the murders from the state.
“My mother died and she suffered too with not getting to the truth. There
was nobody ever got for it. I remember she was always dreading something
could happen at O’Boyle’s because that’s where everyone gathered, she always
said something would happen and then it did.
“Thomas was dead at the scene of the shootings. The next morning they called
us into Dungannon barracks and showed us the car that was covered in bullet
holes. We never got Thomas’ clothes back – only his wallet,” Mickey said.
Dwyane O’Donnell’s mother Briege said she still found it hard to believe
that a loyalist gang was able to carry out the mission “in the heartland of
a nationalist and republican area”.
“Billy Wright was named, but it is the facts behind the shooting, who
sanctioned it, that we need to know now. The police didn’t arrive in Cappagh
until hours after the killings.
“There’s days you could be very resilient, but other days you just stand
peeling the spuds with tears dripping into the sink.
“We know no one is ever going to be prosecuted now, but it’s very hard to
explain to children and grandchildren without the truth acknowledged by the
state,” Briege said.
With memorial masses happening in Tyrone tonight to commemorate Malcolm,
John, Thomas and Dwyane, the people of Cappagh proudly recall the dead men
in a memorial at O’Boyle’s every Easter.
Perhaps memorial masses are not Peter Hain’s thing. But maybe he could
explain to one or two of his South African acquaintances which is more
important: the protection of corrupt state practices and personnel in the
alleged interests of ‘national security’, or the exposure of truth about
collusive state murders in the interests of grieving relatives – as well as
the future interests of this island?
