ANALYSIS:Frank Dunlop's decision to 'come clean' in 2000 forever changed his life, writes Paul Cullen
ON OCTOBER 9th, 1998, when he received his first letter from the planning tribunal, Frank Dunlop was a successful and wealthy public relations adviser with contacts in the highest reaches of power.
His teenage son Cathal had died of an illness just four months earlier, but otherwise he was on top of his professional game. And just in case adversity came his way, he was equipped with "balls of iron and a spine of steel" to withstand any attacks, as he had boasted during a planning controversy a short time earlier.
By yesterday, almost 10 years later, when the former government press secretary was told the tribunal had finally finished with him, all had changed utterly. The years up in Dublin Castle have taken a huge personal, financial and emotional toll. His business is long gone, as is his good name, and he hasn't worked formally for years. When not on the golf course, he studies law. Only the old brashness remains.
"I don't give a hoot whether people think I'm arrogant. I've a life to lead. At my age, you can't reinvent myself," said the 60-year-old yesterday, taking a break from his Master's studies in Trinity College's Law department.
Dunlop remains the only tribunal witness to "fess up" to his involvement in planning corruption. In April 2000, under pressure from tribunal lawyers to explain the flow of money in his accounts, former chairman Mr Justice Feargus Flood invited him to "reflect" on his evidence overnight.
Reflect he did. A different man arrived in the witness box on April 19th that year - Spy Wednesday.
Haltingly at first, he revealed the details of payments to 15 different county councillors ranging in size from £500 to £48,500. Whereas previously he had insisted there was a distinction between bribes and "legitimate political donations", Dunlop now acknowledged for the first time that most of the payments were intimately connected with the councillors' stance on the rezoning.
For the first time, a key "insider" was "coming clean" about the dubious details of brown paper bag politics. As the day wore on and Dunlop added yet more names to the list of politicians handed to Mr Justice Flood, the shock waves reverberated around Dublin.
After that momentous day came the collapse. Dunlop spilled all the beans to the lawyers in private sessions over the succeeding months, but his health suffered and his business contacts dried up.
"Clients finished their contracts, retainers ended. As for the speed with which that happened, I'll make individual judgment elsewhere," he says, referring to a planned book on his involvement with the tribunal.
"True friends weren't a problem; they remained. As for the rest, the flotsam and jetsam of human life, the people who meet on the journey through life, some were spineless and others were hypocrites."
Of late, he says, some of these erstwhile friends have been knocking on his door again, but "too much water has passed under that particular bridge".
He says he hasn't worked in years, apart from "the odd small background advice". He lives off his "wise investments", notably his 5 per cent stake in the lucrative Citywest business park in south Dublin.
Is he comfortable? "What is comfortable? I still live in the same house we've had for the past 30 years. I still drive the same kind of car. The only pity is that I didn't pick myself up quicker." This is in spite of the fact that he has paid out more than €2 million in legal fees and could face more bills in the future.
He wrote a book, Yes Taoiseach, about his time as government press secretary, in 2004, which sold more than 20,000 copies in hardback, and a new memoir is planned for Christmas 2009. He plans to do a doctorate after he completes his current studies - and no, he's not planning to go to King's Inns to become a barrister.
He says he feels for Bertie Ahern "to a point" in relation to his entanglement with the tribunal. "When you look at it objectively, he's there for one reason only, a piece of hearsay by Tom Gilmartin, and hearsay is not allowed in court."
He doesn't regret having "reflected" on his evidence as asked by Justice Flood, but admits to finding it "bizarre" that his revised evidence is repeatedly called into question by the tribunal and outside the inquiry.
"Why would I bother to make it up? The world and its mother knew that certain things were happening, that a block was not laid upon another block in Dublin since the 1960s without some sort of inducement being paid."
His business is long gone, as is his good name, and he hasn't worked formally for years
He says he feels for Bertie Ahern 'to a point' in relation to his entanglement with the tribunal