
‘He has told me he will kill me and I believe he will do so,' wife tells domestic violence court
'He has told me he will kill me and I believe he will do so,' the woman told the emergency domestic violence court in
Dublin
's Dolphin House.
Her husband grabbed her by the back of the head when she confronted him about having an affair, punched her in the back of the head and dragged her out of their house, she said.
On other occasions, he threw candle holders and glass food jars at her, one of which cut her foot open when it smashed, she claimed. He smashed her watch and phones, threw her clothes and other possessions out of the house and damaged her car, the court heard.
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Judge Gerard Furlong told the woman on Friday he would grant her ex parte – one side only represented – application for an interim barring order and returned the matter to next week.
In another of about 20 ex-parte applications, a man got a protection order against his wife, whom he alleged is physically and verbally abusive to him, including hitting him with a mop while he was in the bath and scratching his neck with her nails.
She has thrown food and cups of hot tea over him while he was lying down in bed, threatened to make him homeless and put down his dogs, threatened to get three men to kill him, and has sent abusive videos and phone messages, he said.
She had said she would stab him to death when he is asleep, he claimed. He sleeps with his medication in his underwear because she tries to take it, he added.
In another application, a father who said he is 'in fear for my life' from his adult son was granted an interim barring order against him.
His son, aged in his 30s, is very violent, has psychosis and is constantly on drugs, he said. His son forced his way into his home after his recent release from prison, refused to leave, was constantly abusive and threatened to beat him.
He immediately called gardaí but his son said they would not come 'for ages' and had told him, if he pursued a barring order, he would smash all his windows.
The man said he has several health issues, the situation is causing him anxiety and fear but gardaí have been 'fantastic' in their response.
'They have inundated me with welfare checks. If I was younger, I'd love to be a guard.'
In a different application, a woman said she and her husband had been advised by gardaí to leave their rented council home due to safety concerns. Her adult daughters have changed the locks and are facilitating a gang who want to store stolen material in the house, she said.
She and her husband have been in bed-and-breakfast accommodation for some weeks now and do not want to go back to the family home due to fear, she said. She wanted to get her belongings from the house but was concerned to ensure her safety while doing so.
Her daughters are not paying the rent – she pays it, but she cannot afford to continue as well as paying the B&B costs, she said. She wanted her daughters out of the house, which would facilitate her getting alternative emergency accommodation for which she has been approved.
The judge said he would grant protection orders so the woman could retrieve her belongings, but he could not grant an interim barring order as the woman sought. This was not a domestic violence situation, he said, and gardaí would have to deal with the gang. As tenancy issues also arose, the woman could seek an injunction to get her daughters out of the house. He urged her to seek legal advice.
Another woman who said she had lived in an abusive marriage for years, including being subject to bullying, financial abuse and body shaming, sought an interim barring order against her husband. She found out earlier this year he had a 'double life' with another wife and child, and since then he had been 'acting crazy', shouting and screaming at her and saying he was going to make her life 'unbearable', she said.
She does not feel safe and is in constant fear due to her husband's deceit, the woman said. 'I don't want to die in this marriage.'
The judge said the man's secret life was not a ground for an ex parte interim barring order, but he would grant a protection order and the woman could renew her barring application when both sides were represented. She could seek a divorce, he told the woman.
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Extra.ie
7 hours ago
- Extra.ie
How DJ Carey conned cash from real cancer victim
Shamed hurling legend DJ Carey 'preyed' on a cancer patient during her 'most vulnerable moment' and conned her into giving him thousands of euros after falsely claiming he was suffering from the same disease. The woman's husband claimed Carey, who this week pleaded guilty to 10 charges of defrauding people out of money while pretending to have cancer, 'groomed' the couple as they were trying to cope with their own health crisis. And can reveal it was this couple who first blew the whistle on the five-time All-Ireland winner's heartless scam, whose many victims include the businessman Denis O'Brien. In an interview granted on condition of anonymity, the cancer patient's husband revealed the bombshell moment they realised they were not the only ones conned by Carey. Catriona Carey. Pic: Colin Keegan/Collins Dublin It was while watching an RTÉ documentary about the former hurler's convicted fraudster sister, Catriona Carey, that they realised others could be swindled unless they did something. The cancer patient's husband told 'There was a Prime Time programme about Catriona Carey on the telly and his MO [modus operandi] seemed to be the same. 'He was so good. You're talking the Talented Mr Ripley here. He was juggling balls and living up a lot. It was a calculated approach. He was so good in his grooming. He was brilliant. It was the work of an artist, and he was consistent even to the end. 'When we saw the programme on the telly we said, 'this has to stop' and we came forward to stop it. We took our responsibilities seriously. And it has stopped. It's not easy to be a whistleblower and to stop fraud. You have to be brave. DJ Carey conned a real cancer victim by pretending he had the same disease. Pic: Colin Keegan/Collins Dublin 'People giving him money, these were acts of kindness and decency, and it wasn't reciprocated. We didn't come forward ultimately to see him punished or put behind bars. This had nothing to do with retribution. We came forward to stop it, and it has stopped.' DJ Carey is regarded as one of the country's greatest-ever hurlers, winning five All-Ireland titles with Kilkenny and nine All-Stars during a glittering sporting career. On Wednesday, the 54-year-old pleaded guilty at Dublin Circuit Court to 10 separate charges of defrauding people by pretending he had cancer. There were initially 21 charges against him, and 30 witnesses were due to give evidence about how they were defrauded over an eight-year period between 2014 and 2022. Dressed in a dark suit, Carey sat at the side of the courtroom and walked to the dock when his case was called. DJ Carey outside the CCJ. Pic: ©Fran Veale He stood with his hands clasped in front of him and replied 'guilty' as the court registrar read out details of each of the 10 charges. Judge Patricia Ryan remanded him on continuing bail for a sentencing hearing to take place on October 29. The court heard that victim-impact statements would be required. Carey's barrister also requested legal aid on behalf of his client to cover a psychological report that may be necessary, saying there were 'certain mental health issues'. Judge Ryan granted the application. Carey was not required to address the court again and left shortly after. No evidence was given this week about how much money the former hurler pocketed. However, some sources familiar with the case believe more than €1m was given to Carey under false pretences. Carey's legal team this week said their client has a 'genuine' heart condition and that he had mental health issues. But until the moment his lawyers indicated Carey would be pleading guilty to the changes, the sportsman had maintained his innocence. The husband of the woman battling a cancer diagnosis who was targeted by Carey said: 'He didn't co-operate until the very end. His legal team said he has a heart condition, and it's a little bit rich because he could have co-operated. He didn't co-operate; he was caught. 'He could have made an attempt to repay people… he was managing the situation right to the end.' The couple who blew the whistle on Carey's fake cancer extortion scam got to know him through business and their shared love of hurling. They were not particularly close, but he made a point of approaching the couple when he learned about their health crisis. The cancer patient's husband recalled: 'My wife was diagnosed with blood cancer in February 2021, and we were completely up the walls to be given a diagnosis. 'We were looking down the barrel of a gun, we didn't know where we were. Between diagnosis and treatment is the worse time. You are really vulnerable. He [Carey] heard about it on the grapevine, and he was Ambassador for Kilkenny Hurling at the time. I was on the field, and he made a beeline for me. 'He knew about the type of cancer my wife has, and he told me: 'That's what I have. There is hope.' He told me he was getting treatment through his elite sports status in the US. 'He mentioned where he was getting treatment in Seattle and a centre in Manchester. 'I wrote all this down in my phone and he asked could he meet my wife. He was extremely convincing. We were groomed and there was preying on our vulnerability.' At the time, the former Kilkenny hurler was living in a luxury home on the grounds of the five-star Mount Juliet Estate, where the woman diagnosed with cancer occasionally frequented. 'A few weeks after meeting him, he met my wife and he mentioned to her about going for a coffee.' Afterwards, her husband said, the text messages started to ping on her phone. Within weeks, she received a message looking for money. The retired sportsman was desperate. He needed urgent treatment. But unless he had money by the weekend, he would lose his slot at an American hospital. Carey assured the cancer patient that his elite sports status cover would kick in at the end of the month, and he assured her he would repay the money then. But once the four-figure sum was transferred, he became elusive. He was in hospital having treatment. He could not talk because he was in hospital. Rest assured, she would get her money when he got home at the weekend. But as the months passed and the money never materialised, the real-life cancer patient became convinced Carey was 'faking' his cancer. Eventually, she threatened to go public unless he paid back the money in full. Her husband said Carey called to the house a short time later with the money. Despite their ordeal, the couple say they are fortunate they were able to recover their money. Others were not so lucky. Although Carey has only pleaded guilty to 10 charges of fraud, the couple's case is among 21 charges Judge Ryan will be asked to consider when sentencing Carey on October 29. Thirteen of his named victims include Denis O'Brien, Noel Tynan, Owen and Ann Conway, Mark and Sharon Kelly, Aidan Mulligan, Tony Griffin and Christy Browne, Thomas Butler, Jeffrey Howes, Edwin Carey and Aonghus Leydon. In spite of the stress Carey caused the couple, the cancer patient's husband said: 'I don't feel any bitterness towards the chap. I don't have any of that in me. We were codded and got our money back. It's a very sad tale. It's the fall of a sporting idol. The man was like a god in Kilkenny. 'I'm sad for him, I'm sad for his kids, I'm sad for his ex-wife. He targeted people who he knew had some money, and the money was given in goodwill and in the belief that his story was true.' The man, who said his wife is responding well to her cancer treatment, added: 'Giving the money was an act of decency, and the breach of trust is greater because we all gave that money to someone we thought was in dire need. Cancer or any fake use of cancer for gain should be off-limits, and he did cross that line. It's shocking. It's despicable to do that.'


Irish Times
8 hours ago
- Irish Times
Oliver Plunkett's story would make a great film – it's a shame modern, secular Ireland has forgotten him
Interest in Oliver Plunkett has fluctuated over the four centuries since he was found guilty of treason in a blatant miscarriage of justice in 1681, after which he was hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn . Interest may have peaked in the 1970s. In 1975, there was nearly a diplomatic incident because then taoiseach Liam Cosgrave and president Cearbhall Ó Dálaigh were vying to represent Ireland at the canonisation in Rome . Cosgrave won and even proclaimed the first reading at the canonisation Mass. Archbishop Karol Wojtyła of Kraków also attended, invited by Cardinal William Conway. Four years later, now Pope John Paul II, he prayed before the relics of St Oliver Plunkett at Drogheda before his famous plea for peace. Citing Oliver Plunkett as an exemplar of forgiveness, he begged 'in the language of passionate pleading ... on my knees ... turn away from the paths of violence and ... return to the ways of peace'. More than 50 years before, in 1920, when Terence McSwiney was Lord Mayor of Cork, Sinn Féin councillors successfully proposed that George's Street be renamed Oliver Plunkett Street in honour of his beatification. READ MORE This year marks the 400th anniversary of Oliver Plunkett's birth and the 50th since his canonisation. But in contrast, the national coverage has been scant and the response muted, aside from in places directly associated with the saint, such as Loughcrew in Co Meath, where he was born, Armagh, where he was primate, and Drogheda, the home of the national shrine in St Peter's Church. An extensive programme , concluding in November, has been held in these areas involving Masses and ecumenical services, walks, tours, exhibitions, concerts and competitions, thanks to a hard-working committee. It is not the first time that Oliver Plunkett has fallen from national attention. For example, in the 200 years after his death, only a loyal few kept his memory alive. Tommy Burns, writing in the Commemorative Book compiled by the St Oliver 400 Committee, includes in that small number the Siena Dominican Sisters in Drogheda. They preserved the executed archbishop's head for nearly 200 years, which sometimes involved great personal risk. While the relic may appear grisly to modern sensibilities, it is venerated not for ghoulish reasons but as evidence of his ultimate sacrifice for his faith. [ From the archive: Highlighting cruelty of St Oliver Plunkett's execution reaffirms our commitment to faith Opens in new window ] Oliver Plunkett's story would make a great film. He was connected to many of the Hiberno-Norman landed families. When he chose to be a priest, he also chose exile in Rome, as no seminary could operate in Ireland. He became a well-regarded professor of theology at the College for the Propagation of the Faith. When appointed as Archbishop of Armagh in 1670, the memory of Cromwell's slaughter of thousands in Drogheda and Wexford followed by deliberately induced famine that reduced the population by up to 25 per cent was still fresh. Plunkett managed to navigate a political situation where Catholics officially had no civil rights. It sometimes necessitated disguise as an English officer or hiding in caves. He worked tirelessly to be on good terms with Protestant bishops and included Protestant students in a newly established Jesuit school in Drogheda. The Irish Catholic Church was in chaos – religious orders fighting over property, alcohol-abusing priests leading scandalous lives, and the Rapparees – or partisans – launching raids. The Rapparees were viewed either as guerrilla defenders of fellow dispossessed Catholics or lawless criminals, and probably contained elements of both. Oliver Plunkett negotiated a settlement with the Rapparees in Tyrone, leading to an unprecedented peace. Some of the clerics he reprimanded or removed from office would eventually give false testimony against him, implicating him in Titus Oates' entirely fictitious Popish plot. Modern, secular Ireland does not have much space for a story like Oliver Plunkett's or, indeed, for contemporary examples of Christian persecution. But as Archbishop Eamon Martin said in a homily in Loughcrew last Sunday, 'sadly, even in 2025, martyrdom remains a reality for many of our Christian brothers and sisters around the world'. Archbishop Martin cited the recent murder of 200 Christians in western Nigeria. Fulani armed groups descended on a village full of displaced Christians and murdered them with machetes, before setting fire to their bodies. According to a UK Parliament research briefing , 4,476 Christians were killed for faith-related reasons in 2024. Seventy per cent of those killed were in Nigeria. The world mostly ignores it. The BBC recently provided a perfect example of this reluctance to ascribe religious motives in an explainer on the 200 deaths. It laid the blame on farmer versus herder conflicts and climate change before mentioning religion as an additional factor. According to the United States Commission on International Religious Freedom, Fulani armed groups in northwest Nigeria engage in 'kidnapping, rape, property and cattle theft, illegal possession of weapons, and murder'. While the motivation behind individual attacks can be difficult to verify, they 'significantly restrict freedom of religion or belief, particularly for the predominantly Christian communities that live there'. We care about the shocking conditions of Palestinian children in Gaza because we see them daily on our screens. The courage and faith of St Oliver might remind us that other persecuted communities, including Christians, deserve visibility and no less of our concern.

Irish Times
8 hours ago
- Irish Times
‘Dún Laoghaire is a place of such contrasts - it has yacht clubs and sunshine, but also a darker side'
From the front of the Royal Marine Hotel, the harbour town of Dún Laoghaire looks glorious under a summer blue sky. It seems the perfect idyll for the perfect life, which is why Dublin author Gill Perdue chose it as the backdrop for her latest crime novel. Sipping coffee with hot milk in the foyer of the Victorian hotel, a relaxed and chatty Perdue emphasises the impact the town had on The Night I Killed Him. It wasn't just the setting, she says – it drove the plot. 'Dún Laoghaire is a place of such contrasts. You have the beautiful glittering marina, the boats, all the different yacht clubs, old Victorian buildings, the sunshine, but you also have a darker side, and in a way, that's what I'm always looking for. And I wanted somebody who was living this wonderful lifestyle on the surface, but underneath, there was something darker going on.' The 'somebody' she refers to is Gemma Fitzgerald, a social media influencer around whom the story centres. She's not the hard-sell, vacuous type beloved of some dramas, but someone with a genuine connection to her followers, along with a beautiful home, a handsome yachting husband and an adorable young son. Her life is picture perfect, but she also lives with a dark secret about the disappearance of her golden-child brother, Max, 18 years earlier. And when his body is discovered, the tension created in this nerve-racking and pacy read is palpable. READ MORE Gill Perdue in Dún Laoghaire. Photograph: Nick Bradshaw Perdue's first adult work, If I Tell, was shortlisted for Crime Novel of the Year at the 2022 Irish Book Awards, and was followed by When They See Me, in 2023. Both featured Garda specialist victim interviewers Laura Shaw and Niamh Darmody. The duo continue in The Night I Killed Him, which has attracted praise from a plethora of writers including Jane Casey, Liz Nugent, Jake Arnott, Andrea Mara and Marian Keyes. [ Helping the traumatised to speak: The role of the specialist victim interviewer Opens in new window ] Perdue, who lives in Rathfarnham, Co Dublin, with her husband, has a particular skill for characterisation. Strong women are her forte. Shaw and Darmody are powerful and complex, as well as entertaining and relatable. 'They each have their vulnerabilities, they have their complexities, they have their strengths, and they have their blind spots and weaknesses,' she says. 'They are just like me, my sisters, my friends, my daughters. They are very real.' Their relationship is leavened with lighthearted banter, including when Shaw walks down a corridor in a green two-piece suit. 'On board this aircraft there are six emergency exits, two doors at the rear of the cabin, left and right,' Darmody says before their boss growls from his office. Perdue credits her sense of humour to her family, and the Aer Lingus joke to her brother. 'Even in the bleakest times, humour can keep you going,' she says. Michelle Obama was saying she had to have counselling … I was delighted to hear her say that — Perdue on big life transitions Four-year-old Ferdia is compassionately drawn, due in part to Perdue's experience as a primary schoolteacher, as well as to her volunteer work for a children's helpline. It taught her a lot about children's struggles and how they spend so much of their time trying to please their parents. 'It's really hard to find a single child whose main goal is not to just please their parents and make them proud. You can see grown men weeping when their dad says, 'You know you make me proud, son', so it is everything.' She gave up the helpline when life took over. 'As soon as I had kids myself, I found it much more difficult ... It was like as if a layer had been taken off me.' Perdue works hard at her writing, but also puts much effort into the visible side of her career: the festivals and interviews, the book signings and social media presence. There was a point, though, before she rediscovered writing, when she felt invisible. She recalls her younger self who had heard of 'the invisibility of the middle-aged woman', but had attributed it to low self-esteem and poor self-care. Then, when her children were small, she took a career break from teaching, taught dance part-time, and found she had become part of the 'sandwich generation', raising teenagers and caring for elderly relatives. Her siblings were 'brilliant' and played their part, she says, but because she had more time, she could do more. And although she was happy to take on the role, she recalls always being in her car on her way somewhere or on her way back. She had written children's books in her 30s, and 'sort of wrote' during this generational caring phase, but found it difficult to carve out time. Her mother died in her 60s, then her grandmother and father died and, when her two daughters moved away, Perdue found herself 'suddenly in the empty house and floating around'. 'I kind of felt invisible. I just felt like: who am I? What am I? To a certain extent, you are what you do. So what was I doing? I felt I had sort of faded and become invisible, even to myself.' With that came a loss of confidence. It wasn't, she says, empty nest syndrome – the term applied to a sorrowful parent, mostly a mother, after children have moved away from home – because she had never defined herself through her children and was delighted they'd gone out into the world. 'But if you are keeping up your day job, and you're in and out of town and you're in your office workplace, and you're dealing with people, and they're adults ... you're just operating in the world fully engaged ... Your world can become very quiet when all that goes.' She became shy and found it difficult to speak in front of people. 'I needed to put myself in touch with who I used to be. So what did I always love doing? Well, I always loved writing. And I thought, Are you going to call yourself a writer? Have you even finished one thing?' This gave her 'a kick', and she told herself 'get out there and go for it'. She began 'engaging with the world rather than hiding away'. She invested in herself and took a summer school in fiction writing in London. At this point, in her 50s, she feared her classmates might think she was too old and ask why she wasn't taking up 'flower arranging or something'. But it wasn't the case, and she wasn't the oldest student. Perdue mentions former US first lady Michelle Obama, who recently spoke publicly about the help she needed as a 60-year-old to 'transition' into a life after her daughters left home. 'She was saying she had to have counselling ... I was delighted to hear her say that.' Returning to the subject of her time in England, she smiles with pleasure. 'It was a nice full-circle moment, because I stayed with my daughters in London, and went from the mummy minding them ... to them going 'Now, look, I'll put the app on your phone', and telling me what stop to get on, and only stopping short of making my school lunch.' It was a special time in her life. 'And writing gave me the courage to do that,' she says. The Night I Killed Him by Gill Perdue is published by Penguin Sandycove