MICHAEL SHINE IS one of those names that you probably recognise, a memory that jogs some ill feeling.

Reach into a memory bank of other bad men, and you will find him. 

Derry O’Rourke. Brendan Smyth. George Gibney. Michael Shine. All figures from the past who held power through their jobs – doctors, priests, sports coaches – and misused the trust society had in them to prey on the most vulnerable. 

Some of these abusers were intimately involved in the the inner workings of the state, knowing how to keep it on their side to evade or avoid justice.  

Most frequently referred to as a monster, priest Brendan Smyth became the subject of a focused investigation as part of a public inquiry into historical child abuse in Northern Ireland long after his death in 1997. 

In 2015, the inquiry heard that Smyth “ought never to have been ordained” as warning signs were apparent even then. 

“This pattern of behaviour to maintain his freedom to do as he chose was already apparent while in formation,” the investigation was told by Smyth’s former order. 

He went on to abuse at least 200 children, eventually convicted of more than 100 charges. However, he had been moved from parish to parish and eluded authorities in Northern Ireland by living in the Republic for about three years.  

In the Where is George Gibney? podcast, survivor Tric Kearney recalls seeing the dates of her abuse on a charge sheet reported in the press. It was a reclamation of sorts.

“I remember waiting alright for my charges, because my charges weren’t put to him initially. They gave the first lot, and then there was another, and finally, I saw a little tiny thing [in the newspaper] and I saw there was more charges. I saw the dates and I knew they were mine. That gave me joy, just to think, ‘There you go, bucko, now you know I’ve come forward and you know Tric McCahill spoke up.’”

Individual charges are important for each individual victim. 

George Gibney has never been convicted of sexual offences. Legal tactics when his abuse was first exposed meant he evaded trial and moved to America, where he still resides. 

Derry O’Rourke was first jailed for sexual offences involving girls in January 1998 but gardaí were approached by new victims consistently. Last month, the 78-year-old was handed a fresh sentence of 10 years for rape, sexual assault. That investigation had started in 2021 after a woman disclosed how he groomed and abused her when she was a young teenager in 1989 and 1990. 

Just because an abuser is in jail does not mean justice has fully been served. 

For victims – or alleged victims as we must write until there is a criminal conviction – justice is only served when the truth, the whole truth is out in the open for everyone to shudder at; for everyone to learn from; and so nobody can hide from it. 

Why do I join these dots? Simply, there can be no time statute on justice even if the system has deemed somebody incapable of getting a just trial, as the Court of Appeal has in Ireland in relation to disgraced doctor Michael Shine. 

Shine has, according to court documents, nine victims. He was convicted in 2017 and 2019 in relation to charges of indecent assault of these boys. 

But we know he abused many multiples of that number. 

The Dignity4Patients group which advocates for survivors of Shine’s abuse now has 350 members attached to it. 

There have been about 200 civil suits settled by his former employer, the Medical Missionaries of Mary. 

Charges in dozens of cases were initially pursued by the Director of Public Prosecutions but the Court of Appeal decision in 2021 means the likelihood of any further trial happening is nil. 

(The Court of Appeal ruled that “cumulative factors” – including Shine’s age and health, and a ‘misstep’ by the Director of Public Prosecutions – meant the case was in a “wholly exceptional category where it would be unjust to put the appellant on trial”.)

How do those remaining hundreds navigate feelings of injustice? How do they pursue justice if criminal charges are prohibited?

How can they answer questions like, ‘Why did it happen?’ ‘How did it keep happening?’ Could it happen again?’

Today is a landmark day for that group. Four of the men have decided to waive their right to anonymity and speak out about what happened to them – and what they need for any semblance of justice to enter their lives. 

A public inquiry, they say. 

It is understandable that the men believe the State has always worked in favour of the perpetrator and against them when you look at their intertwining histories. It is stark to see details of freedom of information requests denied – even when they are asking for their own transcripts from a previous review into Shine. 

Larry Torris, one of the men who spoke to The Journal today, is just 40 years old. This is not a bygone, historic Ireland. This is an Ireland where a 30-something has flashbacks of his alleged abuse while watching Downton Abbey. 

This is a country which says there is no time bar for justice. Now, it’s time to prove that.