The story of Danny Talbot is one of neglect and missed opportunities by State authorities, writes CARL O'BRIEN
WHEN THEY combed through his belongings at the hostel where he lived, everything fitted in a single black plastic bag. There wasn’t much, just some clothes, Liverpool football posters and a bottle of hair gel. There was also a single, creased photo of him as an eight-year-old on the day of his Holy Communion, smiling broadly with his hands clasped together.
“He kept that photo with him through everything,” says his aunt, Sandra Lamb. “Through all the hostels and places he stayed in over the years, he kept that dear to him.”
Danny Talbot’s childhood was scarred by neglect and ill- treatment, even though authorities were alerted to serious concerns about him. By the time he reached his teens, he was deeply troubled and on a downward spiral into a world of drugs, homelessness and crime.
Danny was born in December 1989 to Lisa Lamb, an intellectually disabled woman, and Paddy Talbot, described by a social worker as “mentally subnormal”. Lamb’s mother had nine children, all of whom ended up in the care system. (Years later, her attempts to make contact with her children would be chronicled in a moving radio documentary, The Story of Mary X, by RTÉ’s Peter Woods.)
With his mother moving in and out of healthcare settings, Talbot became the main carer for two of the children at his flat in Dublin’s north inner city. Soon, however, it became clear he was an unsuitable father. Records uncovered by Woods in the course of his documentary show concern expressed by a public health nurse about the levels of hygiene and the state of the children.
Teachers at St Vincent’s Boys School were so concerned about the state of Danny and his brother that they wrote to social services.
In a letter signed by four teachers to the then Eastern Health Board, they expressed worry about his level of aggression and “a knowledge of sexual activity way beyond the boy’s years”. They asked to see a social worker to discuss their concerns.
After Talbot died, when Danny was aged about nine or 10, the true scale of the neglect and abandonment of the children came to light.
“We’d never been allowed into the flat,” recalls Debbie Lamb, Danny’s aunt. “The smell was terrible, a smell of urine, stacks of porn magazines everywhere. Joseph [his brother] was going to the toilet in the corner of the room.”
“Danny had no childhood,” says his other aunt, Sandra Lamb. “They didn’t have real food. They’d only eat out of tins and drank bottles of Coke. Joseph didn’t know how to eat a proper meal, like meat. His hair was covered in lice and he had scabies.”
Danny was placed in foster care and Joseph was taken in by his aunt, Sandra. Almost inevitably, though, Danny’s behaviour began to deteriorate as he grew older.
He ran away from his foster parents on several occasions and ended up accessing services for homeless boys. In the “out of hours” service, a largely unstructured form of emergency care, he ended up on the streets for most of the day, drifting into a brutal world of crime and drugs.
Despite the best efforts of some social workers, the child protection system seemed to preside over a slow deterioration in his circumstances.
Growing worried for his welfare, his aunts sought – through a family solicitor – a more stable care placement for him. It took the best part of a year of intermittent appearances before the High Court before he had a proper assessment of his needs. Later, an aftercare plan was arranged until he would reach the age of 23.
It was a good plan, comprehensive and tailored to suit his needs, but it was too late. His behaviour was getting worse and he was refusing to engage with efforts to help him.
He ended up in prison for a time, after being arrested for petty crime. Despite the chaos of his life, he kept in contact with his aunts and, towards the end, helped to re-establish a solid relationship with his extended family. “He wanted to unravel everything inside him, he wanted to get his life sorted out,” says Sandra Lamb. “
“He wanted to make something out of his life, but he had such little confidence because of everything he went through.
“He even found it difficult to deal with love at the start. He’d turn away if you tried to kiss him, but as time went on, he made huge progress and he had so much to offer . . . He was turning a corner.”
That was until a fortnight ago. His aunts received a phone call to say Danny was found dead in a flat in Dublin’s north inner city. He had died from an apparent drugs overdose. He was buried just last week, following a funeral ceremony attended by dozens of family and friends.
For Sandra Lamb, the grief is still raw. It’s too painful to think what might have been if authorities were able to intervene earlier to meet her needs.
“I think he was just seen as ‘damaged goods’ by the system. He had too much baggage. To even go into his case would be opening a can of worms. But that’s why we need answers.”