Derry Girls: Impossible to Ignore

Chapter 8: The Forgotten Son

Niall Mallon had spent the last five years in HM Prison Maghaberry, located in Lisburn, Northern Ireland. At 15, he joined a paramilitary group, thinking he was doing his country a service by trying to rid Northern Ireland of English tyranny. What a feckin' eejit he had been. His stupid beliefs got a man killed, and Niall often wish he had died that day as well. Since being incarcerated, he hadn't heard from any of his family; he didn't know if any of them even wanted to see him.

Ryan was 14 when he got sent away, so he'd be 19 now. Michelle was around 13, making her 18 now. Then there was the youngest sibling, Grady. He was 11 when Niall went away, making him 15. Did Ma and Da have any more wains while he was inside? He wasn't sure if he'd ever find out.

There was plenty of craic going around the prison about this whole Good Friday Agreement and what it could mean for people like Niall and others in his situation. If it went through, they might all be set free. Whether any deserved to be set free was of course extremely divisive, even amongst prisoners. Some still held onto their hatred for the English, saying they'd do it all over again. Niall was sick of all the hate. Barely a year in prison showed him hate and violence brought nothing but more of the same. He'd had enough.

In early May of 1998, Niall was sat in front of a group of older men, going over the details of his crime.
"Ye are Niall Martin Mallon?" one of them asked. "Son of Martin Patrick Mallon and Deirdre Michelle Mallon?"
"Aye, that's right," Niall answered, his voice distant.
     "Ye were born and raised in Londonderry?" the man asked another question.
     "Aye," Niall answered, although he never cared for his beloved hometown to be referred to by that name.
"Do ye know why ye were imprisoned?" the man asked another question.
"Pretty sure ye all know why I'm in here." Niall replied. "But if ye need some specific shit fer today's records, it's cuz I killed a man back in 1993. I s'pose domestic terrorism was the main charge, but, to me at least, it's because I took someone's life. Purely accidental, but I ended someone's life regardless."
     "And how did this happen?" another asked.
     "Because a feckin' bomb went off," Niall answered. "I was told nobody would be at the buildin' I was ordered to set it up at. They were probably talkin' a load of shit about it, but I believed 'em cuz I was a 15 year old eejit who had no feckin' business gettin' involved with paramilitary shit. But I got involved, cuz some older bastards convinced me it was the right thing to do for our country. That blowin' up some buildin's would scare off the English. They gave me a bomb to set up in the lobby of some government buildin', where supposedly nobody would be at when the damn thing went off."

     Niall began shaking some, as he retold what happened that day.
     "There was someone there that day," Niall continued. "Older fella named Connor Brody. He was a security guard who attempted to speak to me as the bomb prematurely detonated. How in the name of God I survived, or more importantly why, I have no idea. I can still remember the flames 'round the lobby, my breathin' bein' extremely faint, as if somethin' was jabbin' my sides. Turns out yeah, loads of shrapnel had lodged themselves in me. Plus I got torn up some."

Niall began tearing up as he gave the rest of the details.
"Connor Brody was lyin' next to me," he went on. "His eyes never leavin' mine. I saw him pantin' like mad. Blood purin' out as the life faded from his dark brown eyes. I passed out as emergency services were just showing up. When I woke up in hospital, they informed me Connor Brody was dead when they got there; not that I needed remindin'. Had a wain, he did. I think they said he was around my age. I confessed right then and there, no point trying to talk up a load of shit like so many others had and still try to do. Some thought I did it cuz I thought it'd give me leniency or some bullshit. I deserved to be punished. A man was dead an' it was my fault."

"How do ye feel about bein' set free, Mr. Mallon?" the man who began the questioning asked.
"I don't really see a point to it," Niall shrugged. "My family hasn't spoken to me since my sentencing, apart from some letters here and there from my younger sister. But I doubt I have much choice in the matter."
"Would ye try to get yerself incarcerated again, Mr. Mallon?" another man asked.
"There's no point in doin' that," he shook his head. "Even if my family won't see me, last thing I'd ever want is them to hear I got out only to get myself locked up again. What I'll do after gettin' back outside, I'll seek employment, try to properly contribute to society."