Free Gangster by John Mooney

from Paralegal and Technical Services (PATS). Ó Siodhacháin was a former member of the Sinn Féin Ard Chomhairle and the Provisional IRA. He met Herron, whom he describes as a fiery redhead, whilst seeking help for a complex legal case, and the two went on to set up PATS in 1985. Neither were solicitors, but both had a good understanding of the courts system and judicial process.
    ‘We’d prepare briefing documents for solicitors and help people fight cases against the Garda, ESB, corporation and the like,’ said Ó Siodhacháin.
    The meeting with Gilligan was purely accidental. ‘He was in the High Court and had just made an application to the judge, but he wasn’t able to get across what he wanted. He was in very bad shape physically. He was being held in Cork in solitary confinement. He looked shell-shocked, he wasn’t wearing any stockings in his shoes,’ remembered Ó Siodhacháin.
    The judge delayed hearing Gilligan’s application, so he took a seat at the back of the courtroom where Ó Siodhacháin was sitting. ‘He was anything but the figure he was made out to be later. The prisoner officer handcuffed to him dozed off to sleep, and I passed a card under his nose. I’d written on the back of it, “Apply for a two-week adjournment, ask for legal aid under the Attorney Generals Act and do you want our help?”’
    Gilligan did not know what to make of him but nodded to all three. Ó Siodhacháin pointed to his red-haired companion, Herron, who visited him the following day. Ó Siodhacháin was dubious about Gilligan, having no idea about his background and his story. Because of these fears, which he kept to himself, he arranged to meet Geraldine.
    ‘We asked about their income. They were living in Blanchardstown, and she produced photographs of the land in Kildare with a few buildings on it. This was long before they built Jessbrook. She had photos of it, and it looked run-down and grotty. In fact, it was so bad at that stage that when she tried to get some grant to upgrade the stable, it was condemned as being not fit to keep horses in it,’ recalled Ó Siodhacháin.
    Unknown to them, they were dealing with a man who was a serious criminal. They put a briefing document together for Gilligan to approach a solicitor. ‘We had no idea he was such a heavyweight criminal.’
    By this stage, Gilligan had been charged with common assault in Portlaoise District Court on 5 February 1993 and was convicted. He was sentenced to six months in jail, which was subsumed into his sentence. But he was still being held in Cork Prison.
    Ó Siodhacháin soon realised that his best intentions were being lost on Gilligan. Having succeeded in being removed from solitary confinement, Gilligan pulled a stunt.
    ‘We prepared the legal papers for him and he got a further adjournment. Our mistake was to include a judicial review. When he saw how it was done, he photocopied the papers and started passing them around to other cronies, and they all went applying for judicial reviews, and he was put back in solitary confinement.’
    It was Geraldine who approached them once again begging for help, prompting Ó Siodhacháin to take action again. ‘On the information she gave me, I went before a judge in the High Court and was granted a habeas corpus application. I gave notice to the Governor of Cork Prison to bring him before a court within 24 hours.’
    In spite of his efforts, Gilligan would not listen to their advice—in short Ó Siodhacháin believed he was a liar and would cut a deal behind their backs, or anyone else’s for that matter.
    ‘In our experience of dealing with criminals, they would sell out their own mother, so I asked Geraldine out straight, would he deal straight and would she deal straight? She said she would, but that he would cut a deal. So once I knew he would do this I pulled away.’
    Ó Siodhacháin would later get the occasional call from Geraldine to say thanks. ‘My recollection of Geraldine at that