And so farewell then, he has done the State some service. Adieu to the high-octane octogenarian, the scourge of lawyers, the unlikely champion of the common man, the whistle-blower extraordinaire.
Mr James Gogarty may in time make a brief return to the witness-box he has occupied for the past 16 weeks, but yesterday effectively marked his grand finale to Dublin Castle and the planning tribunal.
Shortly after 11 a.m., a Garda escort took him away from the tribunal-watchers and well-wishers outside the tribunal hall, and back to the anonymous retirement in north Dublin whence he was plucked.
In the spirit to which we have become accustomed, his final words were to offer the chairman "a bit of advice". An embarrassed Mr Justice Flood declined this offer, saying "you never know what might be taken by your advice".
Then the witness picked up his stick and left the box to receive kisses and embraces from the two daughters and son who have chaperoned him to Dublin Castle over the past four months.
There will come a time, most probably when Mr Justice Flood writes his report, when the accuracy and truthfulness of Mr Gogarty's evidence will be properly assessed, but for now it is more appropriate to contemplate, perhaps in awe, the Gogarty phenomenon.
Here was a man who will be 82 next month, who suffers from deafness, diabetes, blackouts, arthritis and a heart condition, and who was surrounded by enemies and detractors.
Before the tribunal started, they said he would never enter the witness-box; when he did, it was predicted he would be torn apart by hostile lawyers.
Unseen enemies leaked unfavourable stories about him in the newspapers. Lawyers for the developer Mr Michael Bailey promised "some big ambush".
But Mr Gogarty held fast to his story about planning corruption involving politicians, developers, county councillors and council officials.
He admitted his own role in wrongdoing, but expressed regret for this and, with time, he developed the skills to fend off the criticism he faced in the box.
His attacks on "lawyers on £1,350 a day" and "crooked solicitors" earned him a personal fan club, an ever-growing collection of retired people who came to cheer for the man who was expressing the collective frustration of Ireland's petite bourgeoisie.
Arguably, Mr Gogarty's lack of due respect before the legal profession struck a chord in society, one which has culminated in the Sheedy affair.
As the chairman of a tribunal rather than a judge, Mr Justice Flood could do little to prevent the jokes, the insults, the cheers and the applause that became the daily diet of the tribunal.
There were moments, too, however, when you could hear a pin drop in Dublin Castle. For example, when Mr Gogarty reported Mr Joseph Murphy's alleged threats to "break every fucking bone in your body"; or when he related the alleged conversation with Mr Bailey on the way to the famous meeting with Ray Burke.
"Will we get a receipt?" I asked. `Will we fuck?" Mr Bailey replied.
From the start, Mr Gogarty displayed a razor-sharp mind, one which could remember the All-Ireland finalists in some distant year or the date of a crucial company meeting a decade back.
Most famously, he pounced on Mr Garrett Cooney's unfortunate reference to "long rambling speeches from the dock": "From the dock? Put me in the dock, that's where they want me, in the dock. Oh, Jesus, oh, Mother of God."
But his phenomenal recall could desert him under hostile cross-questioning, as Mr Garrett Cooney SC found out, and the witness would fall back on formulaic responses such as "I couldn't swear to it" or "You'll have to ask . . . "
Mr Gogarty got to write his own autobiography from the box: the humble origins in Co Meath, pounding the beat as a young garda, the 17 years he took to complete a degree at night. Then there was the late start with Murphys, which he joined in 1968 at the age of 51.
His relationship with Mr Murphy senior was feudal; in one letter, Mr Gogarty described himself as "a loyal servant" of his millionaire boss, but in the witness-box, the now-embittered ex-employee lost no opportunity to make allegations about Mr Murphy's tax affairs, his business intrigues and his heavy drinking.
So does his story hold up? There are few people in Dublin Castle who share his belief that Mr Burke got £40,000, and not £30,000, from the Murphys, or that Mr Murphy jnr attended the meeting in Mr Burke's house in 1989. The inconsistencies in the versions Mr Gogarty gave to various solicitors, gardai and politicians were amply highlighted by Mr Cooney and others.
In various peripheral matters, such as the damage to his car and Mr Murphy jnr's assault case, he has been proved wrong.
The Murphys and Baileys have hinted that Mr Gogarty might have been seeking cuts of his own on various land deals, and they have produced a variety of scribbled notes in seeming confirmation of this argument. Mr Cooney has argued impressively that Mr Gogarty was determined to blacken the name of the Murphys.
But equally, the thrust of Mr Gogarty's main allegations still stands. Both Mr Burke and Mr George Redmond admit now they received money, though not to the extent or in the manner first alleged by Mr Gogarty.
There is evidence they were not the only ones to get payments from developers.
It's up to the tribunal now to investigate matters further. It may take years, and Mr Gogarty may not be around to see the final result, but as he said at the close yesterday: "If I'm alive I will be delighted to come in."