A troubled young Irishman has gone missing, and his family is deeply concerned for his safety, writes Lara Marlowe in Paris.
Patrick Finucane does not know why his only son Ros left the family home in Churchtown, Dublin, on October 18th and headed for Paris. Ros (21) had been "reclusive and demotivated" since he was released from St James's Hospital in June, Patrick says.
"He's an intelligent young man and he realised it was not the right way to be. I think he wanted to make a complete break and go for a new life."
It is an understandable wish for a young man who suffered his first psychotic attack five summers ago and has spent several long stays in mental hospitals. His diagnosis was a terrible blow for Patrick, his wife Anne and Ros's older sister Aishling. Schizophrenia "is a frightening word and a frightening condition", Patrick admits. Contrary to popular misconception, only a small percentage of schizophrenics are violent; Ros is not.
"He's very gentle, outgoing, friendly. He likes company when he's well. When he's not, his thought processes become confused. He's bombarded with ideas and starts sentences that he doesn't finish. He could hurt himself, for example by walking into traffic."
In the three weeks since Ros disappeared, the family have twice received evidence that he was in Paris. On October 23rd, the troubled young man left a message on the telephone answering machine. "I'm in France," he said. "I need money to come home. I'm sorry." Gardaí were unable to trace the telephone call because it was made through an international exchange.
On October 27th, the Finucanes received a bill for €20 from a clinic in the fashionable Paris suburb of Neuilly. Under French privacy laws, the only person who could discuss Ros with the doctor who saw him in Neuilly was the Irishman's physician in Dublin. The French doctor had not realised Ros was schizophrenic, and he apparently left the clinic without receiving the olanzapine (an anti-psychotic drug) and priadel (lithium) that he needs.
The Finucane family contacted Interpol in Dublin as well as the Garda Síochána. Patrick found it frustrating to wait through the October bank holiday weekend in Dublin, and he knew that the first Monday in November would be a bank holiday in Paris. So the 56-year-old retail manager for the Submarine Bar in Crumlin decided to travel to Paris. Mick Brady, a retired school principal and a close friend since college, came with him.
The men started their quest on Tuesday morning at the Irish Embassy in Paris, where consular staff have been their link with French police.
Every day, the embassy telephones the central administration for Paris area hospitals to ask if Ros Finucane has been admitted. On Tuesday, there was one unidentified patient. Patrick's hopes soared. Again because of privacy laws, he was not allowed to go to the hospital. He had to telephone Interpol in Dublin so that a French policeman could take the missing Irishman's photograph to the hospital. It took 24 frustrating, emotionally draining hours to check the patient's identity, and he turned out not to be Ros Finucane.
Patrick and Mick spent all Wednesday afternoon walking around the Bois de Boulogne in the hope they might find Ros there. He has gone missing several times in Dublin, and once slept rough for two nights in Marlay Park.
"We realised how futile it was," Patrick says. "You're looking for a needle in a haystack. Of course, on the streets, in the Metro, you're always hoping against hope you might run across him."
The men went to several "Irish" pubs and asked to put up posters of Ros. "They have Irish names and live off that. But they all said 'non'. The attitude was, 'We don't put up posters for missing cats or missing people'."
They received a warmer welcome at the Irish College, where the chaplain, Father Declan Hurley, is contacting everyone on the GAA mailing list to draw attention to Ros's disappearance. French media have shown no interest, so Patrick intends to publish his son's photograph in paid advertisements. Unless he finds new leads this weekend, he will return to Dublin. The stay in Paris is expensive, and he thinks he should be with his wife and daughter.
"It feels terrible," he says, "like a mission unaccomplished."