The following is the full text of the court statement made by Brian Murphy's mother, Mary Murphy, in the Circuit Criminal Court yesterday.
I am here for Brian. This is the most nerve-wracking thing I have ever done. I'm doing it also for myself because I have been forced to keep silent for so long. But my real motivation in taking the stand here today comes from my deep love for my son.
The love that one has for one's child is primal. It's the type of love where you would put your own safety at risk. It is the only comparison I have for the love that God has for us.
I wasn't there when Brian was savagely kicked and beaten to death. If I had been there you would not have succeeded in your quest to attack my baby because you would have had to kill me first.
I spent a lot of my time over the past week preparing a text for this impact statement. It contained details and a description of how I felt in the immediate aftermath of Brian's death, how we were told not to touch his body in case we would destroy evidence. There were details I wanted to share about Brian's wake, his funeral and his burial. When I read it over in preparation for today, it sounded so hollow. When I asked myself why did I feel this way the feeling came that apart from the judge and my own close family and friends the rest of those listening to me probably didn't want to know. When I thought about that I realised how much I have felt under attack in this courtroom over the past seven weeks.
I will try and outline why I have felt this way.
Firstly, when I woke up the next morning still thinking about this, I noticed as I lay in the bed that I had my two arms tightly over my face and that there was huge tension in my whole body.
In a strange way I felt that there was an uncanny resemblance between Brian's predicament in his final moments and my feelings of being surrounded by people whom I felt didn't want to know about our tragedy.
Just thinking about our family's seating position in Court 23 helps me to further enhance what I'm talking about.
In front of us were seated the prosecution barristers, and solicitor. Beside them were the defence barristers and their solicitors. The media and the accused were also present. All of these people had a voice. Brian and our family, I felt, had no voice. That was why I felt surrounded and under attack.
I would like to describe how I felt about these various parties.
First of all we heard the prosecution, who don't represent Brian, but who act on behalf of the people of Ireland and therefore represent the State. I felt the rules governing how they were allowed to argue the case to be so restrictive. To me the evidence of some witnesses was confusing and contradictory, yet the prosecution was not able to recall these witnesses for clarification.
Then we have the defence teams. The main effect that the defence had on me was that I felt I was being brainwashed into thinking that what happened to Brian was somehow his own fault. The repetition of evidence over and over again somehow desensitises everyone to the reality of what happened to Brian.
The summing up of the defence tried to paint all the defendants in such a wonderful light, that it was a tragedy for them to have to be sitting here as defendants at all. Are you allowed, in summing up, to blatantly contradict a scientific witness, such as Dr Harbison, who stated that Brian consumed less than twice the legal limit of alcohol permitted when driving a car? This means that Brian consumed between three and four pints on the night in question. In the summing up there was a suggestion that he consumed twice that amount.
Then there is the media. I think the message abroad from the media is that the tragedy of our family and those of the accused is in some way comparable. The opinion of the general public seems to suggest that any of their children could have been involved in a similar attack. It was a tragedy for these guys. The headline in one Sunday broadsheet epitomises what I'm saying, where Brian is described as "The Luckless Murphy". This suggests that poor Brian was just unfortunate to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The biggest fault I have become aware of as I have read some media is that they are quoting as fact something that has been alleged, and are using that to back up their own agenda. This has the cumulative effect for me of diminishing Brian as a human being. I would just like to clarify that I have felt that direct evidence quoted by the reporters which speak directly about the evidence as presented before the jury has been, in my opinion, for the most part accurate. But remember, this is only evidence. People who swear before God to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth don't necessarily do that.
And, finally, you have those convicted of their part in Brian's killing, who have attempted to deny and minimise their part in Brian's death.
So, maybe now you can understand why I could not share my innermost feelings about my beautiful darling son to a listenership such as this.
So, I don't intend to go into any great detail about how if felt to watch Brian, as he lay dead on a hospital bed with his two front teeth smashed; or about the long wait before his body was brought back home in a coffin to us; what it was like to watch my child lie in a coffin with my rosary beads wrapped around his hands and Brona's private letter to him lying on top of his body.
I have an abiding memory of so many candles lighting all day and all night in the room with him. I am not going to tell you about the prayers of forgiveness, which we composed ourselves, and which we brought before God at Brian's funeral Mass. I won't attempt to describe the devastation I felt at Mount Jerome crematorium, as the curtain went across Brian's coffin to the music of Brian's favourite song, November Rain, or about the box of ashes I carried to his grave.
I was going to describe the emptiness in my heart and in my home, about the weeks and months afterwards when I prayed that I would die too, about the anger I felt towards God because I felt He could have stopped this. The delay in the trial process added hugely to our pain.
So where is my baby in all of this? I can't find him. He's lost. I'm lost. All my family and friends are lost too.
Where is my pride and joy, my full of confidence child, my crazy, exuberant, full of cheer, larger than life child. My naïve, far from perfect child, who did some silly things and some fabulous things.
On the basis that the judge does want to know who Brian was I will attempt to introduce you to this dehumanised, by the trial process, Brian Murphy. Actions speak louder than words. Anyone who saw the video of Brian interacting with his little brother on TV should be able to see the vitality, the warmth that was in him as he rubbed the top of Robert's head after he kissed him and used the words, "I love you too, Baby."
Here is my humble attempt to describe Brian. Anyone who knew him would say that he was a free spirit who was larger than life. He had a special charm that drew people to him. He was 18, remember. He had still a lot of maturing to do both physically, emotionally and mentally. He was highly intelligent. His exuberant personality refused to be quashed.
As a person, Brian had time for everyone. He labelled no one. He had so many friends from all schools and our local soccer club. His friends came from every walk of life and every background. He was not an adopted Clongownian. He liked people for who they were and nothing else. What schools people attended was irrelevant to him.
He was a brilliant listener. He made you feel you were important to him. He was so open. There was no pretence, what you saw and heard was the real him, warts and all. He was an individual, with his own views. He was a leader. His sense of humour was second to none. To remember him is to smile. He would introduce humour into the everyday, the banal. The spirit that was Brian was manifested in his appreciation of the finer things of life.
At his funeral Mass a young lady told a story about Brian from the altar. How he brought her into the National Gallery to show her, in his own words, the best painting ever. It was a painting called The Opening of the Sixth Seal, the theme of which was taken from the Book of Revelations in the Bible. It was painted with a black background, with a red sun, and orange and red flashes of lightning. He was fascinated by it.
He loved poetry. I vividly remember the days prior to his Leaving Cert English exam of him showing off how he could recite every poem on the course, even though this wasn't necessary for the exam.
He loved mountains. His favourite holiday was one we spent camping in the Alps. We have put a picture of Mount Fuji on his memorial book mark because that is a place he longed to visit. In a book where he had read about Mount Fuji, called the Natural Wonders of the World, Mount Fuji is described as a place of pilgrimage and a sacred place, the reason being that its coned peak goes above the clouds, and there is an air of heaven and earth coming together at its peak.
Dr Harbison said that Brian had a slightly enlarged heart. Clare said to me afterwards that was a good description of Brian; that is that he had such a big heart. Stories of Brian's big head abound. The one which sticks in my mind happened during the summer before Brian's death.
He came with me and Robert to visit my mother, who was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. She was in a nursing home in Bray. We walked to the sea front with her with Brian holding her hand. We sat on a bench at the sea front with her. Brian gave her a cigarette, and we laughed as she tapped the ash in the way she would have prior to her illness.
Brian put his arm around her and said, "Gran, I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in a while," and he started to cry. She did not understand a word he was saying. He then went to the sea shore with Robert to show him how to skim stones on water.
He was delighted at Robert's success in doing this and gave me the thumbs up from the water's edge. Robert remembers this day also.
There is a story of him bringing home, unbeknownst to me, a man who was down on his luck to our home and him cooking one of his specialities for him.
To me he was my best mate. I had completed first year as a mature student in UCD in the faculty of social science. I found studying for the exams really tough. Brian was there for me with his encouragement to keep at it. To his delight I passed my exams. During that summer, I worked as a social care worker with a young girl who was a heroin addict.
I found the work emotionally draining and Brian was a ready listener when I described to him what life was like for this young girl.
What I really miss most of all about Brian is the fun we had together. My best memory of this is our day together on his 18th birthday. We went into town and bought his present, having travelled to every shop in town. I will never forget the camaraderie there was between us as we chatted over lunch in a restaurant chosen by him.
He told one of his friends, speaking of me, "Mary understands me". I am so glad that he said this as it gives me huge consolation.
How do I convey how Brian's death has affected me? The pain I felt was physical. I could not shed a single tear, which would have been an outlet for some of the pain. The pain was one of shock, numbness and grief which had no outlet because I could not cry. In time, with the feeling of anger came the tears which at least gave some release to the pain.
I have and will continue to have great difficulty letting myself feel the sadness. Devastation is more the word to describe it. I have to blank that out. This will never go away and it is something I have to try to accept.
Then I think of what it was like for Brian and his final moments. What was the horror and terror like for him? He must have been pleading in his mind, "Will somebody help me."
This talk about Brian's group. What group? If Brian was with a group he would still be alive because they would have come to his defence. The boasting and cheering are scary, like we have gone back to the dark ages. Words like manslaughter and violent disorder make killing sound respectable. This I find nauseating.
I wonder what legal jargon would be used if Brian hadn't died but was left brain-damaged with the suffering that would have been for him and us. Denis and I have lost our beautiful son's future - his maturing, his becoming more sensible as he got older. But the biggest thing we have lost out on is his sense of fun.
Robert was six years old when his big brother, whom he loved, was snatched from him. Robert started to play matches for his football club a year after Brian died. Brian would have been his Number One supporter on the sideline, offering all sorts of advice to his little brother. Denis said just after Robert was born that he was looking forward to the day when Brian, Robert and himself would attend matches together. This never happened. I imagine the slagging there would have been between them over premiership results, Brian being a Spurs supporter and Robert a Liverpool supporter. All Robert has left of Brian is his picture which he has pasted to his bedside locker, a teddy Brian gave him, and an old Spurs shirt of Brian's, which Robert sleeps on at night when he is feeling particularly sad. Robert goes through phases of sadness. It usually happens at night when he cries and says "I miss Brian". I hate this loss for Robert more than anything.
Brona told me of an evening when he arrived home, when she was babysitting Robert and he walked in and said to her, "Brona, you know I love you." This coming from an 18-year-old boy to his 14-year-old sister shows what a special person he was. There are 16 months between Clare and Brian. They were like peas in a pod, doing everything together.
What effect has the trial had on me? I'm back to when Brian died. That we should be forced to revisit it after 3½ years is inhuman. The shock, the anger, the sadness are back and along with these is fear which must be present as a result of hearing the details of what happened to Brian. I wonder will I ever feel safe again, because the way the justice system works makes me think that we live in a very unsafe society.
I wanted questions answered by coming to this trial every day. The way I see it, there was no fight when Brian was killed. There was a concerted savage attack, where he was surrounded and kicked to death.
I feel brutalised by this trial process. The quest for the truth becomes a battle between two sides caught in a game, each side trying to win points. Brian gets lost. Brian becomes the object in the red shirt. There are some phrases that are ingrained in my mind and will be with me for the rest of my life.
"We got him good."
Other witnesses used another version of this which I prefer not to repeat.
"This is great craic."
"Behaving like animals." As a lover of animals I find that remark insulting to animals.
"He fell flat on his face with no arms to save him."
"I started all this."
"The wave of feet."
"I couldn't put faces with feet," by witnesses who knew the accused.
The new shoes kicking him. The big-headed guy who walked from the group kicking Brian.
"I heard his head snap, crack and I felt it go soft."
I used to think that whoever did this will have to live with it for the rest of their lives, which is why I prayed for them and their families at Brian's funeral and at subsequent anniversary Masses.
After attending this trial and hearing what I have heard, I don't think that any more. They just want to get off.
If they had a conscience and if they were really sorry for what they have done, they would tell the whole truth about what has happened, own up and take the consequences.
Truth is lost here. Brian is lost here. I am lost here. I have agonised over forgiveness over these past years since Brian's death, how I couldn't find it in my heart to forgive. I wasn't going to pretend to forgive, it had to come from my heart.
From the way this whole case has gone I am clear on one thing. I cannot contemplate forgiveness until I know the truth and those responsible for Brian's death have acknowledged their part in it and make known the part others played in his killing.
The anger I felt mounting as the trial progressed was all about what I have just said, that nobody was owning up. The way I see it, that is the only way of getting on with the rest of your lives. There is no way of hiding from the truth. It demands to be seen and heard.
On considering this issue for myself, I was reminded of the account in the Bible of the crucifixion of Jesus, where the two criminals were on crosses on each side of him. One said to Jesus, "If you are a king, you save us." The one on his other side said, "Leave him alone, he has done no wrong. We deserve to be here, he doesn't." Jesus said to this criminal, "You will be with me today in paradise." He did not say it to the other one. The man who told the truth won the favour of Jesus.
To conclude, we as a family have to go from here to try and get on with our lives. I know that in time and with God's help, as I move through all the pain that is ahead of me, that I will survive as Brian has survived. I know for Brian that life has changed, not ended. I am not afraid of death any more. I look forward to running into Brian's outstretched arms as he enfolds me in his warm, joyful embrace.
I have a memory which convinces me of Brian's state. Some months after he died I was coming out of a deep sleep when I heard his voice in my head, which just said, "sorry".
He had come back to say this word to me. It was a word which I was used to when he was alive. Whenever we had words, which mothers of teenagers often do, he would be heading out afterwards and he'd shout, "I'll see you Mum." Then he'd have qualms of conscience about what had been said and he'd arrive back and say, "Sorry, Mum," about whatever the disagreement had been about. I'd say, "It's okay, Brian," and he'd head off much happier. The fact that Brian came back and said this word to me is a sign to me that he is still alive.
I am so thankful for the support I get from my husband Denis and my three other children. I hope I can support them also. I am so thankful for the support of the rest of my extended family and for the support of our good, honest, trustworthy, faithful and loving friends.
Can I make an appeal to the media? Please don't misquote me, or quote me out of context. Please, please respect my integrity. It is so hurtful to see yourself misquoted, or the wrong slant put on what you say. If you care in any way about me or Brian and my family please take the time to understand what I'm saying. I feel that the lives of those convicted in connection with Brian's death are not ruined, as some media have said about them. They are not ruined if they can summon up the huge courage that is needed to face the truth.
The truth will set you free.