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CHAPTER 3

Victims

People who were bereaved or injured – or in some cases, both – had no choice but to respond to the Troubles. They have been forced to consider a range of responses: anger, revenge, hatred, bitterness, mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation and grace.

Victims’ voices are often absent from public conversations about dealing with the past, so we do not understand how they suffered at the time, how they manage their pain, and how they live with the legacy of the Troubles. For these reasons, we spoke to more victims than any other category of people. Some said they didn’t consider themselves victims; others called themselves survivors.

We have presented victims’ stories holistically, but there are common themes throughout. Ministers and other members of congregations supported most victims after the incident. But some victims felt abandoned by their church. Others doubted God, some asked Him ‘Why?’, some lost their faith altogether for a time. Many were comforted by prayer and reading the Bible, or by the idea that a just God would judge the perpetrators someday. Bereaved children were inspired by their grieving parent or parents – usually mothers – who made sure they grew up without bitterness. Others found solace in memorials to their loved ones, such as plaques in their local church; and by hearing their names recited on Remembrance Sunday. They still needed pastoral care, especially on the anniversaries of incidents. Some received this care; others did not. We did not ask victims directly about forgiveness. Most of them brought it up themselves. There was a range of perspectives: some had forgiven the perpetrators, others had not, and some hoped they would forgive them eventually. We asked victims about reconciliation, and their views diverged widely. Some thought reconciliation was impossible and even inappropriate if perpetrators did not repent; others thought it should be central to their lives and the mission of the Church.

For most, their faith and the support of their ministers and congregations had helped them heal – or at the very least, cope. But very few had much to say about the wider Presbyterian Church in Ireland (PCI). It did not impinge on their everyday lives, and they had never heard of its peacemaking programmes. Only one person mentioned participating in such a programme, which he found helpful. Others attended special events for victims organised by PCI, but criticised them for being insensitive and lacking follow-up.

‘It would be nice to have reconciliation, but at the same time our lives have been ruined.’

Anne’s father lost his legs in a car bomb. He had retired early from the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR), but was targeted because of his previous work in the security forces. Anne’s mother developed dementia. Anne and her husband George cared for Anne’s parents until they died. Anne said, ‘We had a young family and our lives were wrecked.’

In those days, it was rare for someone to lose their legs and survive. But her father pulled through and learned to navigate life in his wheelchair. Anne’s mother, who died before her father, was more difficult to care for. ‘I literally lost my mother. It was quite horrific with her. I think a lot of it played on her mind, trying to deal with it.’ Her father lived nearby in his own house until he died at age ninety-three. He was resourceful, always fixing things and even gluing down objects around his house, like lamps, to keep from knocking them over as he went about in his wheelchair.’ She said, ‘He was a very determined man, and that’s how he survived. But we’ve missed out on our family growing up because they’ve had to grow up with Granda coming first.’

Anne’s father did not speak about the incident. He suffered severe bouts of pain and was confined to bed. At times, the pain was so much he rang Anne to come and sit with him during the night. Otherwise, he tried to get out of the house every day. He attended church until the pain became too much. George said, ‘He was more forgiving about it than I would be. He never spoke much about it. It was his way of coping.’ This reminded George of his father, who found the body of his own nephew, a policeman, who had been shot. ‘He never talked much about it either, although it affected him.’

Anne and George were supported by ministers in their congregations over the years, but they never expected or received counselling from any quarter. Their current minister is sensitive towards victims. They believe in the power of prayer. George was amazed that on the Sunday when his policeman cousin was still missing in another part of Northern Ireland, the Moderator visited his church and prayed that his body would be found. ‘The Moderator didn’t know there was a relative in the church. I got a phone call that afternoon to say his body had been found. I always felt he was speaking to me.’

Anne and George were frank in their assessments of the prospects for reconciliation. Anne said, ‘It would be nice to have reconciliation, but at the same time our lives have been ruined.’ George said ‘it’s not exactly anger’ that he feels, but ‘resentment that a lot of those boys who were at the back of those bombings are now in the government’. He is content to ‘live with’ people of the same religion as those who hurt his family, but thinks that ‘Corrymeela and those places where they talk about reconciliation are contrived. It doesn’t change the mind-set of your extremists’. Although George commended the churches for trying to promote reconciliation, he said their efforts would not get far because ‘your extremists wouldn’t be stepping through the church or chapel doors too much’. Anne was even less optimistic: ‘You’re talking about a lot of people that have been suffering and I don’t think any church, or any chapel, can make a difference.’

‘For me to reconcile with the boys that planted that bomb – there’s no chance.’

Johnston served in the police before the Troubles started. He was among those sent to Londonderry to deal with the first outbreaks of serious violence in the late 1960s. Later, he was one of the first on the scene after a bomb attack. He extinguished the flames on a young girl, saving her life.

Johnston and Paula were not surprised when their daughter, Samantha, followed her father into the police. Their lives were shattered when Samantha was killed in a bomb attack. Paula said, ‘To tell you the truth, we’re not over it yet. I lay in bed for a long time, I must admit. They had me on some sort of tablet.’ Paula has been especially haunted by the manner of her daughter’s death. Her body was not intact to prepare for burial. Paula initially lost her faith. ‘I didn’t believe God would let such a thing happen.’

Their minister visited and provided support. The local Catholic priest visited Johnston and Paula the day after Samantha died, and later read a eulogy for her in his chapel. Johnston said, ‘I worked with some very good fellas who are Roman Catholics. They stood here and cried when Samantha was killed.’ Paula said, ‘Gradually we started going back to church – but it took a while.’ She found comfort in the Bible. ‘I gradually came to the conclusion that it was meant to be, that there was nothing anybody could have done to stop it. My thinking was: Samantha’s death will be avenged.’

Johnston and Paula remain active in the community – serving others helped them deal with their loss. When asked about reconciliation, Paula said, ‘For me to reconcile with the boys that planted that bomb – there’s no chance. The way that word reconciliation is used – it’s meant to make victims reconcile with terrorists. I would not want to reconcile with Samantha’s killers, or meet them. I would rather remember Samantha’s face, not theirs.’

‘I just leave it up to the day of judgement.’

Jane’s son, Alan, was a policeman. He was murdered on duty when he was just twenty-five years old. ‘The police sent out a welfare man after he was murdered. We laughed at the stupid questions he asked: “How do you feel on Remembrance Sunday?” Sure, every day is Remembrance Day. People who haven’t come through it don’t know what it’s like.’

Jane feels Alan’s loss just as much now, perhaps even more. ‘On Father’s Day in church, you see his friends there with their families. You see the children riding down the road with their daddies in the tractors. That hurts. We have lost the next generation. Nothing was ever the same from when he died. You go through life, but there’s not the same joy in it.’

The minister, elders and others from Jane’s congregation and community visited regularly. ‘People called with us for ages and ages after. Our Catholic neighbours, too. There is more of a bond in the country, so there is.’

There is a memorial for Alan in her church. ‘That will be there when we’re all gone.’ There is another memorial in the location where he died. ‘The Catholic priest was there when they dedicated it.’ The minister who was the Moderator when Alan died has stayed in touch, which means a lot. ‘It’s been some twenty-five years but he came up on a Sunday to our church not so terribly long ago and he visited the grave and took a photograph of the headstone.’

Each year on Remembrance Day, there’s a wreath laid at Alan’s memorial in the church. During the service, the congregation sings, ‘Be Still My Soul, the Lord is on Thy Side’. In the years after Alan’s death, Jane got through by praying and thinking about the words of that hymn. ‘At night, when things were dark and you would have liked to cry, you thought: Lord, be still my soul. Before you came to the end of it, you would have calmed down.’

No one was ever arrested for Alan’s murder. Jane has no desire to learn the identity of his killer.

Alan’s gone and me knowing who killed him isn’t going to ease the burden in any way. I wouldn’t like to be there when he’s meeting his maker. I wouldn’t want to be with him on his deathbed, either. He’ll think about it, for everybody has a conscience. Through my faith I know there will be a day of judgement and he’ll have to answer for it. For him to truly repent I think he would have to come here first of all, and meet whoever belongs to Alan.

Jane blamed the Rev. Ian Paisley for stirring up the hatred that led to her son’s death.

If Paisley had been more Christian, I don’t think Alan would be dead today. I think the Troubles would have gotten nowhere and there wouldn’t have been so many lives lost. And then when he got to the top, he sat down with a murderer. Whereas the likes of Gerry Fitt – he was a good man – but he wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

Jane’s late husband wanted to know who murdered their son. ‘Maybe my faith was stronger. I just leave it up to the day of judgement.’

‘You can’t go forward referring to the past.’

Alice and her 12-year-old son John were injured when a bomb exploded. They were hospitalised for weeks and John had a leg amputated. ‘The Troubles never bothered me that much until we were thrown into the middle of it all.’ After the blast, Alice couldn’t move, and she didn’t know what had happened to John. ‘I was lying in the street very badly injured. I couldn’t be moved. I was just left lying there till help arrived. I was coming in and out of consciousness. I kept thinking: why is nobody coming to help me?’ When she got to hospital, ‘I asked about John and everybody would have assured me he was fine. But he wasn’t.’

Two days after the incident, Alice’s minister came to her hospital bedside to tell her that her son had lost his leg. ‘It was good that my minister was there to break the news. My husband was in a bad state. He wasn’t able to deal with it all.’ John was moved to a bed beside his mother. ‘I don’t know if it was a good thing or not, for I had to witness a lot of his pain. Whenever he needed a doctor, he cried and cried. It took quite a while for somebody to come sometimes.’

John endured some complications from his surgery and fresh bouts of pain. Alice was thankful that her son came to view his situation positively. ‘He wasn’t positive to start off with, but he became positive. That was what saved me: the fact that he didn’t complain. He never once said, “Why did this have to happen to me?”’

Alice’s minister continued to visit. ‘I prayed a lot that everything would work out all right in the end. But apart from that, what can you do? The only people that could help us at the time were the medical people. It was up to them to put us back together again.’ Support came from other sources. Her husband was involved in rugby, and teams and fans from all over the island sent John souvenirs and notes of encouragement. ‘We found out that there was a lot more kindness than evilness after the bomb. On both sides. People were very kind. They would always ask how John was. I knew the support was there and I could have got more involved in church activities if I’d wanted, but I didn’t want to.’ John and her other sons no longer attend church. ‘Sure, that’s how it goes.’

John is enjoying a successful career. Neither mother nor son are defined by what happened to them. ‘I wasn’t full of hatred for those who had done it, for I couldn’t care less about them. I’d like to see justice, but it’s not going to be done in this life.’ For her, ‘Reconciliation is the only way. Most families in Northern Ireland have been touched in some way by the Troubles. You can’t go forward referring to the past.’

‘It was prayer that brought me back to life again.’

Lisa’s husband was murdered and she was seriously injured in the same incident. ‘It was a horrifying night. I remember everything that happened. I was never unconscious.’ Lisa was in hospital for many weeks and was confined to a wheelchair for five years. She has had 174 operations and still endures physical complications. ‘It has been very hard now, it has, because I had three of a family to bring up. Two of them were still at school.’

Lisa was in hospital when her husband was buried, so she couldn’t attend the funeral. Her minister and clergy from other denominations visited regularly. ‘At one stage, round my bed there was six people between ministers and priests, praying at the one time. There was always some ministers or priests at my bedside every day. They were very, very faithful to me. That’s what brought me here where I am now, the ministers and priests.’ Lisa believes, ‘It was prayer that brought me back to life again.’

On her husband’s first anniversary, her minister offered to conduct another service for him. ‘Presbyterians wouldn’t normally do a service for the first year. There was a very big turnout. I thought it was very nice of the minister offering to do that.’ Confined to her wheelchair and in considerable pain, Lisa didn’t attend church for about five years. ‘But my neighbours were all very good. The minister was very attentive. The Church of Ireland, the Presbyterian, and the priests – they never left me.’ Lisa also received counselling through a community organisation. ‘But I still do have nightmares and still waken up thinking about it and all the rest. It’ll never leave. But life has to go on for your family’s sake.’ The members of her congregation ‘rallied around me; they helped me all they could. I can’t say anything wrong about them because I would be telling a lie if I did.’

Despite ongoing struggles, Lisa isn’t bitter or angry.

I don’t hold any grudges, because no parent brings up a son or a daughter to go out and do the like of that. I wouldn’t meet them [those responsible for the incident], I wouldn’t face them but I wouldn’t go out looking for trouble. I know what I went through and I wouldn’t want anybody else going through it.

‘I didn’t know there were boys and girls who didn’t have all this going on in their lives.’

Jennifer grew up near the border and her father and grandfather were in the security forces. Her grandfather was killed when she was seven. ‘We also lost lots of friends of the family.’ A year after her grandfather died, the Irish Republican Army (IRA) ambushed the car when her father was driving Jennifer and her brother to school.

As bullets rained into the car, Jennifer’s brother jumped out and hid behind a hedge. He was not hit. Jennifer followed, but a bullet lodged in the back of her head. Jennifer’s father was not hit, so when the IRA sped away, he gathered the children in the car and drove back to the house. Jennifer remembers the blood, and how her parents held her on their knees as they waited for the ambulance. ‘They said the Lord’s Prayer, and I remember that as clear as day. It always stayed with me that prayer was the response. When I got out of hospital, I went back to school and nobody made a big deal of it. Life just went on.’

When Jennifer was a child, she thought everyone lived with such danger. One day at the kitchen table, her parents remarked that they were living through ‘terrible times’. Jennifer responded: ‘If Adam and Eve hadn’t have done that.’ She explains: ‘I thought the violence was because of sin in the world, and this was how it was manifesting itself. I didn’t know there were boys and girls who didn’t have all this going on in their lives.’