Street Justice

By John Noonan

Veteran Garda Detective Brown finds himself caught in the middle of a deadly game of cat and mouse between gun-wielding vigilantes and Dublins drug gangs. Someone is dealing out deadly justice to drug dealers, and Brown must stop them before another corpse turns up. Can he trust Macker, his petty criminal tout? Is he telling Brown all he knows? Have antidrug activists, Billy and Mary ONeill, really turned their backs on violence? When a criminal kingpin comes out of hiding, things really heat up. Just when Brown plans to draw the net over drug dealers and vigilantes alike, the tables are turned with deadly consequences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496976239

John Noonan

John has traveled to most parts of Australia and New Zealand with his wife Tracey and two daughters Taylor and Jacqui. He backpacked through South East Asia and the USA for a year and also ran a 4WD Tourist operation in Kakadu National Park in northern Australia. In 2005 they all went on a six month tour of Western Europe in a campervan. The rest of the time John works in the IT industry as a Project Manager, having clocked up 15 years at IBM Australia

Book preview

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2014 John Noonan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   03/22/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7622-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7623-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part One

Street Justice

Chapter 1

B illy O’Neill had been given a brand new house at the foothills of the mountains in south west Dublin; people were being shifted from cramped flats in inner city complexes by their thousands to the new estates that had become the corporations answer to the growing housing problem. Whole communities that had lived and survived together for generations were being uprooted and moved. So it was in the early 80’s that Billy, his wife Mary and their three young children started their new life. Billy quickly got a job driving a lorry for a transport company that delivered goods all over the country and as Billy had been smart enough to do the test for a driving license to enable him to drive big and small lorries, he always seemed able to get a bit of work even through the toughest times when everyone else was struggling. Billy knew that things that had to be moved form A to B, and even though the money wasn’t great, it was better then queuing up every Tuesday morning to sign one at the labour exchange and every Friday morning to cash your docket at the post office, like the vast majority of adults within the estate. Billy was happy and content with his lot.

As he drove along the highways of Ireland, his mind often slipped back through the years to his and Mary’s involvement in the anti-drugs campaigns of the late 70’s and early 80’s; the things they had done; the looking over their shoulder times; the constantly being on their guard against retaliation from drug dealers; the harassment and arrests by the Gardai. Billy knew that as his family started he had to change all that, and change he and Mary did, dropping out of anti-drug campaigning and distancing themselves from their circle of friends. Billy saw the changing face of the country, from struggling times, and now noticed more and more people out early in the morning at the bus stops with their lunch under their arms. He read about the Celtic Tiger that was going to bite the arse off everyone and wake them up to a new prosperity.

Billy hopped off the bus one evening after finishing a long day’s work delivering to Cork. He’d left the lorry in the depot to be loaded for the next day. He noticed a crowd gathering outside a house with a fire blazing outside it, banners calling for drug dealers out painted on large white sheets. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought to himself ‘what’s going on here, and how come I didn’t see this coming?’ And for a brief moment his mind glimpsed the past. He shook his head and headed towards the house. ‘I’ll have a chat with Mary and see what’s happening,’ he thought. As he passed he noticed his son Dermot standing to the side with a bunch of young fellas and girls. He gave him a whistle and when he ran over Billy told him to mind himself and not be out to late.

OK Da, Dermot said, I’ll be home in a few minutes to watch the match on telly. He wondered why his Da never asked him what was going on.

See you then, Billy said and walked on to the house.

He had just finished his dinner. The telly was on and the match was about to start. Mary had retired to the kitchen to watch her favourite soap on the small television. She knew Billy wanted to talk about the drugs protest but that he would wait until after the match. Their two daughters were upstairs in their room fighting over a hairdryer or clothes or something. He had learnt how to blank out the noise. He put his feet up on the small stool and sank back into the armchair. All of a sudden, there was a banging and shouting at the front door. Who knew? It was probably one of his children’s friends calling for them. He roused himself and opened the door,

Mr. O’Neill, Mr. O’Neill! Come quick! There’s been a shooting and your Dermo has been shot in the head. Two young girls from the area were shouting between their crying and shaking.

Slow down a minute. Explain slowly what’s after happening, Billy said as he laced up his shoes and grabbed his jacket.

The girls slowly explained,

We were standing at the anti-drugs protests when a car drove slowly by us. The window came down and a fella with a gun opened fire. They drove off laughing. We only realized Dermo was hit when he didn’t get up off the ground and there was blood coming from his head. Hurry up Mr. O’Neill; the ambulance and the police are on the way.

Mary, Mary there’s been a shooting; I’m running out to see what’s happened.

Mary jumped up and ran after him. She knew it was something serious to get Billy this anxious. Billy’s head was spinning as he ran with the girls to where a large crowd had gathered around the ambulance. The police were holding back the crowd, which was getting angrier with them by the minute.

Where were youse when we needed youse? You should be locking up the drug dealers instead of us having to tackle them. Billy heard as he pushed his way through the crowd to the ambulance.

A police officer blocked him and as he pushed him out of the way, a detective told the officer to let him pass. Billy jumped into the back of the ambulance to Dermo who was stretched out covered in blood with two paramedics working on him. Detective Sergeant Brown sat beside Billy telling him how sorry he was and if there was anything, he could do,

But you know that you should keep your head, Billy, after all this time. You’d be mad to go back to the old days.

Will you tell Mary what’s happened? You’ll know what to say, Billy asked.

"Leave that to me, I’ll bring her to the hospital. And do nothing rash!’’ Brown replied.

Meetings were called in the local community centre, but Billy never went although an odd time Mary would go to maintain an interest in what was happening. She mentioned to Billy after one of the meetings that a new problem was emerging among the young in the area and that was a rise in drug abuse and drug sales. Billy advised her to stay away from the meetings and keep an eye on their three children, who were now teenagers themselves.

A local anti-drugs committee was formed to cover their area and again Billy declined to get involved. Mary used to attend the meeting, unknown to Billy. Slipping out of the house to visit her friend in the area was her reason for going out. Through these meetings she got to know who were being mentioned as drug dealers; where they were suspected of selling their drugs, but more importantly, she learned what to look out for in signs of drug abuse. She found this very interesting and started a course that was set up in the area for counsellors. Billy was none too pleased and told her so on several occasions. She could always get around him and told him it was to recognize if any of their own children were beginning to get involved. This was a sufficient explanation for Billy, so he backed off and Mary continued. The anti-drug meetings got more intense and names within the area were being brought up more and more as the ones who were becoming serious big time dealers. They drove around in brand new 4x4’s with blackened windows and with no jobs and certainly not having won the lotto! A tactic that was being used in other parts of the city was spoken about—marching on the houses of these pushers and when necessary forcibly evicting them. Billy warned Mary that the drugs counselling was one thing but marching on somebody’s houses was another. There was a real danger that the drug dealers would retaliate.

It was at a large anti-drug meeting in the community centre when a march was planned and people from other parts of the city rallied round in support that Mary met an old friend of Billy’s from the past.

How are you Mary? he said, and where’s Billy? I thought he’d be here and involved in this!

No, Sam, he’s keeping his head down and staying away.

What a pity and waste, the man said, We could do with him.

As the march progressed, the crowd got bigger. The Garda were out in force at the drug dealer’s house, and this got the crowd in a fair old frenzy. As the crowd got nearer a stand-off developed and when the drug dealer appeared at the window laughing, that was enough for some people. Stones and chunks of rock rained down on both the house and police, which forced them to baton charge the crowd. Mary skipped to the back of the crowd and moved away quickly. Detective Brown had been watching her and noted she’d been speaking with an old friend of Billy’s. He had come alongside her as she walked rapidly away from the riot.

Mary, he called out, remember me?

I do, she replied, What can I do for you?

Mary, I don’t see Billy about. That’s a good thing for him and you. Tell him I was asking for him.

Billy’s not involved in any of this, so you and your likes can leave us alone, she snapped.

The next day the mini riot was the talk of the place and another meeting was called that night. Billy was gone on a long distance run in the lorry and would be staying away overnight. Mary attended the meeting and half way through a lot of nonsense being spoke she stood up to say her piece,

The drug dealers and police of this area expect us to carry on like last night. I have a different way of putting pressure on. What about if instead of marching on a house we set up a vigil outside the gate full time, until we force them out? We could stop deliveries to the house by our presence. We could force the shopkeepers to stop selling to them, pubs the same. If we turn off the water and electricity things would not be too pleasant. What do you think? It’s worth a go.

The crowd were astonished. Mary had never spoken out before but what she had to say sounded worthwhile. Billy’s friend from the inner city smiled and raised his hand in her support. The committee decided that the next morning at six o’clock the first group of eight people would set up a vigil outside the house of the biggest dealer in the area, Zibbo!

Zibbo Murray lived in a seven hundred house estate in southwest Dublin. He was typical of thousands of young people who had been born and reared thought the tough times of the eighties by hardworking parents who struggled most of the time to feed and clothe and educate their families but who now found in the nineties that things were getter a bit easier as work was more available for both parents. This meant more money coming into the house enabling them to buy the things that made life easier all round like televisions, fridges, dishwashers, etc. As Zibbo grew up he noticed all these changes taking place. He played football for the local schoolboys’ club and his parents could buy him the latest football boots as seen on the television. His trainers were brand names along with the tracksuits he always wore like his idols he seen on the television every other day. As Zibbo developed on the football pitch he came to the attention of a few scouts from English clubs who filled his head with the visions