May he rest in the peace he protected
A man of the highest integrity. A rock of sense and discretion, recalls Garda Horkan’s friend and colleague
I FIRST met Colm Horkan when I was the sergeant in charge of unit B in Castlerea. It was January 1999. He had just arrived in the town and was placed in my unit.
He had passed out in Templemore in 1995 and the first place he was stationed was Finglas, Co. Dublin, in the K district.
Four years later, he transferred, along with another garda, to Castlerea where he remained in my charge until 2008 when he transferred to Ballaghaderreen.
I can still remember the day he went to Ballaghaderreen. I was devastated because, at this stage, it wasn’t just a colleague of mine that was being transferred, it was a personal friend.
We all have friends, we have close friends and then we have an inner circle of friends. I have an inner circle of friends of about two to three people and Colm is one of those people to whom you’d tell things that you wouldn’t tell members of your own family – he was one of those friends.
On his arrival in Castlerea I knew I’d got a great, great member. He was keen to learn and had obviously learned an awful lot in the K district in Finglas.
You pick it up fairly quickly. Like when I was in Kevin Street, you either survive or you don’t. He had a vast amount of experience in his three-and-a-half years in Finglas and I was so happy about that.
There was one detective in Castlerea at the time and there wasn’t a huge interest in crime. I had an enormous interest and had spent 11 years in Kevin Street. It covered a square mile and there were over 5,000 criminals in that area. I had a huge interest in drugs because I had worked with the drug squad.
After Colm came in, it became evident he had a big interest in crime. He knew what he was at and for him to be on my unit meant we could work together. If something did happen, he was there at arms length for me to reach out to. That’s how our friendship started.
Around 1999 or 2000, we started having an awful lot of sexual assault complaints. People started coming to see us because they had seen a case in the newspaper. They saw the report and would look specifically to speak to us in Castlerea. I don’t know what it was, but the volume of cases we investigated of a sexual nature was enormous and I don’t know why. Colm became my right-hand man.
I remember once being at the Central Criminal Court for a hearing on an assault case. Colm was with me as I always appointed him my exhibit officer, which meant he would remain with me on a case for the duration. The victim was in the witness box and he was coming under serious pressure from senior counsel for the defence. An issue came up where the defence barrister was telling this man the incident couldn’t have happened, because if it had, he’d have needed reconstructive surgery and hospitalisation. The poor lad was being put to the pin of his collar and I remember him looking at me for support. The DPP solicitor called us over and said he knew of a doctor who could support the evidence and counteract the suggestions being made.
It was 12pm at this stage. I called Colm and said: ‘I need you to run down to this address in Dublin city centre, interview the doctor, take a statement, fax it off to Castlerea Garda Station, get gardaí to type it up and get it back to us as fast as possible so we can serve it as additional evidence – and make sure that doctor is up here to be in the witness box for 2pm.’
He had two hours to do all that and he did it. That doctor was in the witness box at 2pm. It was certainly that evidence from that doctor that won the day and that person ended up getting 14 years.
You could see the calibre of the guy. I could rely on him in pressure situations because I knew he excelled under pressure. If you asked me how I would describe him, I’d say, ‘He is a template for how a garda should act in the course of their career, how to carry out their duties regardless of the situation they are confronted with’. He was a template for that. If you could put him into a book and made sure everyone turned out the same way, it would be fantastic. We’d have an unbelievable police force.
There is always a certain nervousness among people coming into a garda station. Colm was the kind of person that, if you were coming in off the street and you had a problem, no matter how trivial, his greeting would put you at ease. Colm Horkan is the person you’d want to meet. Also, you’d be guaranteed that your problem would be handled with the utmost professionalism and dedication. He would certainly get a result for you.
Colm had such an infectious smile and he greeted everybody with such respect. He was a person who was brought up with manners. If he didn’t know your name, he’d say, ‘How are you doing, sir?’ rather than just, ‘Are you alright?’
He was a man of the highest integrity. He was a rock of sense and discretion. The gardaí have hundreds of powers under criminal legislation, but the biggest power a garda has is his power of discretion and it’s not used enough.
You don’t have to prosecute and persecute everybody. A caution is often as good as a fine, or a more serious slap on the wrist. Colm had the power of discretion in abundance and he used it.
He had a calming effect in confrontational situations. At some point during a six-day tour of duty, nearly every garda is faced with a confrontation, especially if you’re working nights or the weekend. But if you were in the car with Colm Horkan, and you were called to the scene of something unpleasant, he was the peacemaker. He radiated calm. He’d get out of the car and say: ‘Do you want to spend a night in the cell or do you want to sleep in your own bed? If you want to carry
‘He was the template for how a garda should act during their career’
‘The biggest power a garda has is discretion... He had it in abundamce’
on the way you are, I’ll make that decision for you. I’m asking you now, go home and don’t come to our attention again.’
When you get those options it concentrates the mind fairly fast.
Colm never rushed into anything. He analysed everything before he spoke. His attention to detail in criminal investigation was exemplary. We dealt a lot with sadness throughout our time in the force and that, in a way, brought us closer together.
He was a stickler for detail. Most of the cases were really sad and sombre. We spent a lot of time in Dublin together attending the Central Criminal Court and we always shared the same accommodation. We might be together for two or three weeks. We’d spend the day in court then go for a good walk to clear our heads. We would stay in the IPA House in Drumcondra and go down to the Maples for dinner. We’d have one or two drinks, come back and go through the files, preparing for what was going to happen the next morning. Off we’d go to court then the following day.
We played some golf together. My son Eric only reminded me that he played at Tubbercurry Golf Course with us. Colm was a member of Tubbercurry.
We always went to the firearms range together in Carna, near Athlone, and he was a very good marksman, both with the revolver and with the Uzi. He had only been a detective a number of months, but he would have been doing firearms training every year since he came to Castlerea.
We would go about three or four times a year, completing different exercises.
When I retired, we often met for meals and a few drinks in Charlestown. We stayed in contact on WhatsApp. I spoke to him for the last time 10 days ago. The conversation lasted for about 10 minutes. It was just a catch-up chat. He’d always say: ‘My dad said to say he was asking for you and my aunt Kitty.’
I think we actually spoke about Colm’s dad’s age when we spoke last. He’s around 80 now and my aunt Kitty is a character. She is devastated. Colm would have been celebrating a big birthday this coming December 13 – he would have been 50.
He was nearly always first to send us a Christmas card every year. When you got a card from Colm you knew it was time to get at it. He’d always send it shortly after December 8 and never missed a year. So there will be one less Christmas card in this house this year.
My son rang from the UK and said: ‘Dad, there’s a guard shot in Castlerea, do you know who?’ I said: ‘I do. Colm.’ He just broke down crying. Our kids are heartbroken.
He was in our house so often. When I was working, his name would be mentioned 50 times a day in our house. They were so close to him and so fond of him. They are heartbroken, absolutely.
I called to his home yesterday. I spent about two hours with them and they are absolutely heartbroken. You could see shock on all there faces, staring into space. There were a lot of people there from the locality at the same time as us. Everybody was crying. From old people, to young people and children, everyone with a tear in their eye, everyone with their own story and nothing but good to say about him. Just harrowing scenes. What can you do?
He did like a flutter on the horses, which was something he had in common with his dad, Marty. The two of them lived together and before Colm went to work for the last time on Wednesday, around 3pm, he watched the last live race from Ascot with his dad. That’s the last memory his father will have of him now.
It’s OK now, but next week his dad is going to be alone and Colm isn’t going to be coming home from work. He’s not going to be hearing his bedroom door opening in the morning before coming up for his breakfast. He won’t hear him moving around the house.
Colm’s mother died like turning
‘He would have been celebrating a birthday in December - his 50th’
off a light switch. I was working that morning. Colm answered the phone in the public office and I heard him say: ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’ He came into me and said: ‘My mam is after dying suddenly at home. She just came out of the shower, collapsed and died.’
That was in 2002. She was 52 years old. In 2005, his twin sister Colette died. There were two sets of twins in the family. Colm and Colette were the first and now they’re both deceased. Colm was the only one living with his dad. But the other siblings are all living local enough and he’s going to need them.
The phone is ringing constantly at the moment, but all that is going to stop and that’s when Marty and the rest of the family are going to need support.
I rang Fr Joe Kennedy yesterday because I went to the memorial service yesterday. He spoke for about 15 minutes off the cuff. The words were comforting but one quote in particular described Colm perfectly: ‘Act justly, love tenderly and walk humbly.’ That was Colm Horkan for me.
He was a humble man, never looked for credit, never wanted a pat on the back. Right throughout his career he acted justly with everybody, he was very fair. He loved tenderly – he really did – and we love him back for it. And he was a humble man, too.
Fr Vincent Sherlock sent me a text today and he did a little blog and sent it out and at the end he wrote, ‘May Colm rest in the peace he sought to defend.’