A Dream of Death Read online

  Mr Duggan concluded his questioning of his client on the second day of the hearing. Mr Gallagher, for the newspapers, then began his cross-examination after the lunch recess. Like most of the other journalists covering the case, I had worked throughout lunch to type up the gripping evidence of the morning session in a bid to ease the pressure on myself after court finished at 5 p.m. I might as well not have bothered, because in the opening two hours of Mr Gallagher’s questioning that Tuesday afternoon, everything I had just written was superseded by the incredible exchanges between Mr Gallagher and the plaintiff.

  The future Attorney General, like a guided missile, homed in on incidents in 1996 and 2001, when Mr Bailey was arrested by gardaí in relation to allegations of violent assaults against his partner, Ms Thomas. Mr Bailey explained that he had been under a lot of pressure in 2001, when one incident had occurred. The journalist said he had ‘eternal regret’ over the matters involved. He insisted that he took ‘full responsibility’ for them. He acknowledged he had hurt Ms Thomas and very much regretted what had happened. One incident he referred to as ‘an indiscretion’.

  But Mr Gallagher suggested that the injuries inflicted in some of the incidents represented ‘an animal-like [attack]’. The senior counsel outlined in great detail the injuries suffered by Ms Thomas, which included a cut to her mouth that required eight stitches, bite marks, a badly bruised eye and clumps of hair being torn from her scalp.

  Mr Bailey, while querying some of the details of the incidents, such as the scale, duration and circumstances, acknowledged that they were ‘appalling’. But he rejected suggestions that he was prone to violence. ‘I am not a violent man – this was not a premeditated attack. I did not intend to hurt her.’ He insisted that the incidents, which he now deeply regretted, were sparked by alcohol consumption.

  Central to the newspapers’ defence were Mr Bailey’s diaries, which had been seized by gardaí but were now being examined in forensic detail in court.

  The diaries would provide some of the most remarkable headlines of the entire hearing. In truth, they were nothing short of sensational. Mr Gallagher would carefully question the journalist about writings in which he described himself as ‘damned to hell’, ‘an animal on two feet’ and that there was ‘something badly wrong with me’. But, crucially, entries in the diaries also emphasised that the journalist and poet had nothing to do with the Toormore tragedy.

  ‘Ultimately, there is and can be no evidence – unless it is invented – to connect me to [a] crime I did not commit.’ He also used his diary to ponder why gardaí should ever have regarded him as a suspect. The diaries also documented how highly Mr Bailey regarded his writings and how frustrated he was with his lack of success with them, and with his life in general.

  I write well, with confidence, fluidity and flair – and yet I find it so hard to make ends meet. I know I am a great poet, but I am frustrated at not being published.

  I always seem to fuck up. There is nothing that I have touched in my life which I haven’t ruined or has not fallen apart. Even here in Ireland, as well as [I] try and create something, I have fucked up more times than anybody could be expected. Why, why, why?

  The overtly sexual passages in the diaries were not dealt with during cross-examination by Mr Gallagher. But newspapers would later publish extensive details of these extracts, including passages in which Mr Bailey wrote, sometimes at length and in astonishing detail, about his preferences and views on sex, which ranged across everything from sexual positions to multiple partners. In one astonishing entry, he wrote that he was ‘totally obsessed with sex, I love my drugs and I adore alcohol … grass and hash are so horny … there is a direct correlation, I am sure, between the herb and sex … I think there is little hope of redemption in this life.’

  On 13 May 2007, the Irish Daily Mail printed lengthy edited extracts from the diaries, with emphasis on the passages depicting sexual content, noting that they were ‘long and rambling and … can only be described as pornographic’.

  Elements of the diary entries also reflected poorly on the poet and his view of his loyal partner, such as one passage written on 10 October 1994. ‘I absolutely need mental stimulation and unfortunately I cannot get it from Jules. She is fine as a sexual partner but as a soulmate I feel little in common. I am often taken by brighter young things,’ he wrote.

  Arguably the most dramatic diary entry was written by Mr Bailey in 1996, around the time of one of the incidents involving Ms Thomas. ‘One act of whiskey-induced madness – coupled and cracked – in an awful act of violence I severely damaged you and made you feel that death was near. As I lay and write, I know there is something badly wrong with me. For through remorse-filled sentiments, disgust fills me. I am afraid for myself – a cowardly fear. For although I have damaged and made grief your life, I have damaged my own destiny and future to the point where I am seeing, in destroying you, I destroyed me. In doing what I did I am damned to hell.’

  Mr Gallagher queried how he could balance such writing with the description of the injuries sustained by Ms Thomas and his own insistence that one of the incidents involved was ‘an indiscretion’.

  But the journalist insisted his writings had to be judged in an abstract way. He said they should not be taken literally – and that he had adopted a form of writing in the style of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, whom Mr Bailey admired.

  The senior counsel again pointed out that Ms Thomas had been subjected to attacks by Mr Bailey in 1993, 1996 and again in 2001.

  The highest-profile of the domestic violence incidents occurred in August 2001, when Mr Bailey, who had suffered a painful Achilles tendon injury, lashed out at Ms Thomas using his leg plaster and his crutch.

  Mr Bailey, in one reply to Mr Gallagher, clearly attempted to draw a line under the incidents with Ms Thomas. ‘There is no justification for domestic violence ... but the fact that I have committed these with Jules does not mean that I am a murderer.’

  He also rejected comments attributed to him by some in west Cork, which formed a key part of the newspapers defence case – and insisted he was totally innocent in relation to the du Plantier investigation.

  The journalist said, in response to allegations from some in west Cork, that he was the subject of ‘lies, fabrications and untruths’. He emphatically rejected suggestions by the newspapers’ legal team that he had admitted to a number of people in west Cork his involvement in the du Plantier matter over the years. Mr Bailey flatly denied this and insisted that he had discussed some hurtful local rumours with people – but had never conceded any role in the crime.

  He insisted that gardaí were determined to convict him of the killing. ‘There were efforts to pervert the course of justice,’ he said bluntly. Mr Bailey claimed that, at one point, a garda told him that because there had been a full moon on the night of Ms du Plantier’s killing, he must have acted ‘like a werewolf monster’. He told Judge Moran he was convinced that certain gardaí were trying to ‘stitch [him] up’ for the crime.

  Mr Bailey was visibly tired at the conclusion of his cross-examination. Yet he had never lost his composure during what was, at times, incredibly intense questioning over material that, for any human being, must have been extremely upsetting to deal with.

  What struck me as remarkable was that the sole occasion when Mr Bailey displayed emotion and seemed genuinely upset was when his artistic talents were queried. He was clearly unhappy when the material in relation to his treatment of his partner was put to him, but he responded to those difficult questions in a calm, measured and logical manner and never displayed emotion. But Mr Gallagher had later referred to a fisherman who said Mr Bailey was a ‘bad poet and brutal bodhrán player’ at a festival concert on Cape Clear Island. The reference clearly stung the journalist, and he insisted on disputing the statement – pointing out that his bodhrán performance during the island arts festival had been greeted by a positive response from the crowd.

  The remainder of the plaintiff’s case f
ocused on the media coverage and its impact on those closest to Mr Bailey. Ms Thomas’s mother, Beryl-Ann, an artist like her daughter, described the journalist as pleasant and a ‘normal human being’.

  Ms Thomas’s eldest daughter, Saffron, wept as she outlined the impact the media coverage had on her extended family: ‘It is like a dark cloud … a heavy weight … that just never goes away.’ There were times, she told the court, her family felt like sitting inside their home outside Liscaha in darkness or with the curtains pulled because of the fear of being watched by members of the media gathered outside. She also explained that the impact the coverage of the du Plantier case was having on her mother and Mr Bailey was apparent to herself and her two siblings. The young woman slated some of the media coverage as ‘disgusting’ and very upsetting. ‘They cried every day, my Lord. They cried every day for about two years. People did not know whether they should talk to them or not.’

  Two west Cork locals were also called to offer testimony about the impact the media coverage had on Mr Bailey. Thomas Brosnan and Brendan Houlihan, both businessmen in west Cork (although their relationship to Mr Bailey was never specified), said they noticed a dramatic change in Mr Bailey following media coverage that named him in relation to the ongoing murder investigation. Mr Houlihan told the libel hearing he felt, at the time, that Mr Bailey had been ‘branded’. Mr Brosnan said he believed that the media coverage of the du Plantier case had resulted in Mr Bailey already being convicted.

  Jules Thomas also offered evidence. She described the violent incidents with her partner as a ‘moment of alcoholic madness’. The artist insisted that she felt the media treatment of both her and her family had actually been far worse than any of the domestic disputes she had with her partner. She claimed that at one point her home had been under siege by the media, with reporters and photographers camped outside the front gate of her cottage. She said she was particularly concerned about the impact of the press coverage on her children. At times, the family would sit inside their darkened home with the lights turned off in case there were photographers outside. They would also check at the windows before answering unexpected calls to the front door lest it be reporters or photographers.

  Ms Thomas flatly rejected suggestions that her partner had ever publicly admitted to any connection to the du Plantier killing. She said that she had been present at one of the occasions when Bailey was reported to have admitted to the killing; she insisted he was merely repeating what others, including gardaí, were saying locally about him.

  She also took issue with elements of her own garda statements and claimed that she could not remember having said specific things that were detailed in them. Ms Thomas confirmed that she had even gone to a solicitor to formally write to gardaí to indicate that she was disputing several elements of the statements.

  Ms Thomas also insisted that she trusted Mr Bailey despite the three domestic violence incidents between 1993 and 2001. She told the court that he no longer drank alcohol and that they had successfully built a life together in west Cork. In reference to how she had been treated by both the gardaí and the media since 1997, the artist said she was left feeling ‘damaged’.

  ***

  The daily arrival of Mr Bailey and Ms Thomas at the court dominated the photographic coverage of the case. During the initial part of the hearing, the couple would leave the court at lunch to go for food in the nearby city centre. Ms Thomas would sometimes arrive back to the court with shopping or flowers. However, as the hearing became more intense and the media coverage more comprehensive, the couple would often opt to remain in the court complex until the conclusion of the day’s proceedings. Paul Byrne, the southern correspondent with TV3, felt sympathy for the couple as they maintained their lonely day-long wait in the temporary court premises. One day, as a gesture of kindness, he offered to bring them back coffee, a sandwich or fruit when he returned from his own lunch. They politely declined – but he brought them coffee anyhow. His act of kindness would not be forgotten by Mr Bailey. Over the years, Mr Byrne has managed to get interviews with Mr Bailey when all others failed, and two years later, the TV3 journalist would deliver one of the biggest twists in the entire case with an exclusive report about the recanting of evidence that had been central to the defamation action.

  ***

  The second and concluding week of the libel hearing was dominated by the defence team calling various witnesses to attest to Mr Bailey’s statements and behaviour in respect of the du Plantier case – all of which, the defence argued, undermined his claim that the publicity had damaged the public perception of him.

  On the hearing’s seventh day, a total of fourteen witnesses were called. Some of the testimony undoubtedly weakened Mr Bailey’s claims about the impact of the newspaper publicity. It also painted a remarkable picture of the journalist and his social interactions with west Cork locals.

  One witness was Malachi Reid, who, as a fourteen-year-old schoolboy in Schull in early 1997, got a lift home from Mr Bailey. During the short trip, Mr Reid said that the journalist, without bidding, brought up the du Plantier case. The teen, making conversation, had asked Mr Bailey how he was. The reply left him shocked. ‘I was fine up until I went up and bashed her fucking brains in,’ he claimed Mr Bailey told him. The schoolboy went home and told his mother, Amanda Reid, about the conversation, which he felt was a clear reference to the murder. Both were so shaken that they locked all the doors that night.

  When the alleged conversation was put to him, Mr Bailey insisted that he had simply been recounting what others in west Cork were saying.

  Similarly, he insisted that he had also been repeating these hurtful rumours about him during a gathering with Ritchie and Rosie Shelly at Jules Thomas’s home on 31 December 1998. Mr Bailey and Ms Thomas had met the young couple in a west Cork pub that evening and began chatting with them. The Shellys were invited back to The Prairie for a drink.

  Both had felt sympathy for Mr Bailey and his partner over the media focus on them. On arrival, they were taken aback that they were the only ones present at the house, having expected some type of New Year’s Eve party to be taking place. Ritchie Shelly told the court that Mr Bailey’s conversation was dominated by the du Plantier case. The journalist even produced what he referred to as a ‘case file’ about the tragedy.

  Mr Shelly noticed that his wife was increasingly unhappy with the tone of the evening and he decided they would cut the night short and return to their own home. He told the libel hearing that Mr Bailey had then left the room only to return in an agitated state. ‘[Mr Bailey] came back into the kitchen … he was crying. [He] put his arms around me and said, “I did it, I did it. I went too far.” I assumed he was talking about the murder because that is what we were talking about all night.’

  Mrs Shelly said that she considered Mr Bailey to be obsessed with the murder and that he had collected articles written about the case. She was so concerned by the journalist’s emotional outburst that she told her husband they should quit the house immediately, despite not having a car with them. They made a phone call to a relative asking to be collected. Mrs Shelly insisted that they walk down the road towards the person coming to collect them rather than remain at the Liscaha property. When questioned by Mr Gallagher, Mrs Shelly said that the comments that evening had felt like some ‘kind of confession’.

  Ceri Williams, a neighbour of Mr Bailey, told the hearing that a woman once confronted Mr Bailey at a party and told him to his face that he was a murderer. She said that while the journalist was highly intelligent and multi-talented, people were wary of him after details of the domestic violence incidents had become known. She bluntly admitted in cross-examination, ‘I don’t like him.’

  Sculptor Peter Bielecki explained that he received a phone call in May 1996 from Ms Thomas’s daughter Virginia, who, sounding distressed, asked him to call to their family home because Mr Bailey had assaulted her mother. Mr Bielecki was so upset at the recollection of Ms Thomas’s physical condition
that he had to pause during evidence to compose himself. ‘It was absolutely the most appalling thing I have ever witnessed. [She] was curled up in a foetal position at the foot of the bed. I could hear what I can only describe as almost animal sounds. It was as if someone had their soul ripped out,’ he said. He agreed, at the request of her family and because he was a close family friend, to remain at the property for three weeks. Mr Bielecki admitted that he slept with a hammer under his pillow out of concern over what would happen if Mr Bailey returned unexpectedly. Mr Bielecki ended his friendship with Mr Bailey and said he felt ‘betrayed’ by the journalist over the way he had treated his partner.

  Another man, Bill Fuller, said he had been ‘shocked and upset’ by comments he claimed Mr Bailey had passed. Mr Fuller said that, sometime after the December 1996 murder, Mr Bailey, speaking in the second person, referred to seeing Ms du Plantier walking up the aisle of the Spar shop ‘with her tight arse … you fancied her. You went up to see what you could get. She ran away screaming. You chased her. You went too far – you had to finish her off.’ Mr Bailey flatly rejected this claim and denied ever saying anything of the sort.

  Several other witnesses offered evidence that challenged Mr Bailey’s insistence that he had never met Ms du Plantier during her time in west Cork. Alfie Lyons, a neighbour of Ms du Plantier, and the partner of Shirley Foster, the woman who discovered the body on the Toormore laneway on 23 December 1996 as she went to do Christmas shopping, said he believed the journalist had met the French woman some 18 months before her death. ‘As far as I can recollect, I did introduce him to Sophie. I am 90 per cent certain that I did,’ he said.

  Paul Webster, a France-based journalist who had been working for The Guardian in 1996, said he had spoken with Mr Bailey about possible coverage of the du Plantier case. Mr Webster said it was made clear to him that Mr Bailey had had contact with the deceased. ‘He made it absolutely clear that he had talked to her,’ he said.