How fashion victim Nevin always played to the gallery

THE death of Catherine Nevin brought back vivid memories of her murder trial and the enormous interest it generated. A combination of Jack White’s renown as a public house and what only could be described as Nevin’s courtroom performance kept the country gripped on a saga that had everything from claims of paramilitarism and adultery to greed, theft, volcanic temper tantrums and a brutal murder scene. I reported on the case until the late Justice Mella Carroll banned colour writers from plying their trade in her court. But it was hard to know where to stop when it came to writing about Nevin. Unlike any defendant either before her or since, she positively basked in the media attention. Her fastidious grooming, her carefully thought-out ensembles covering everything from the braids in her hair to the shade of her nail varnish, showed that she attached the utmost importance to style and appearance. She was utterly composed. Even as she waited for the judge to arrive in the morning, she would read almost primly from her book, peering up over her spectacles to see the latest arrivals into the courtroom. She used Tom Nevin’s memorial card as a bookmark. It seemed a bit premeditated, like a box-ticking exercise, and also bizarre behaviour for someone who, guilty or innocent, had surely a lot more to worry them than coordinated jewellery. A few years later a friend of mine taught in the Dóchas Centre and got to know and respect Catherine Nevin. I asked her what motivated Nevin to put on such a show in court. ‘She just always wants to do her best,’ shrugged my pal. What a tragedy, squandering her gifts of discipline and attention to detail on a perfect murder.