Dark secrets can fester in the bosom of families

AS remains of O’Sullivan men were laid to rest over two separate funerals, the local community in Cork wrapped its arms around heartbroken Anne O’Sullivan. In a mark of compassion towards the last surviving member of a tragic family brutally wiped out, they lined the funeral route as the cortege carried father and son, Tadg and Diarmuid O’Sullivan, to their final resting place.

At their funeral the parish priest said there were no answers to explain the triple tragedy that had enveloped them. In the reaction of shocked neighbours and friends, the usual platitudes were aired and tributes paid to the hard-working and cheerful character of Tadg and the helpfulness of the younger Diarmuid, who as a top accountancy graduate had everything to live for.

For a mixture of reasons, a veil of silence was drawn over the hideous violence that was unleashed in the bosom of a family, culminating in a suspected murder and double suicide.

Although investigations continue, gardaí believe that Mark’s murder was carefully premeditated. The shots on his hands showed he had fought for his life and tried to protect himself. After that coldblooded shooting, Tadg and Diarmuid went to a field where they are suspected to have taken their own lives.

Two hunting rifles were found beside their bodies and 12 pages of anguished regret at being left out of his mother’s will and the split it caused in the family were found on Diarmuid’s body.

Families routinely fall out over bequests and wills, but lifelong estrangement among members is the most extreme outcome, not a savage blood bath.

Was the row over the will just a catalyst and were other troubles brewing long-term in the family? The only thing we know is that it was not some unseen hand of fate that propelled Tadg and his son on such a deranged path.

We know to our cost how coverups to protect the integrity of everything from the Church to State-run institutions have created such a legacy of pain and regret.

The backlash against the Mother and Baby Homes Bill shows how secrets can topple like grenades through the generations.

The recent ruling at the Court of Appeal which affirms the part of the Children’s Act that makes it an offence to publish any material that could identify a child who is an alleged victim of an offence, including a deceased child, precludes me from identifying a specific border family who were wiped out by the father. And were it not for the brave intervention of a grief-stricken mother and sister, the patriarch responsible would still be celebrated as a pillar of the community.

The ruling also prevents me from mentioning the mother who lost her two daughters and husband in a murder suicide and who, believing her children would still be alive had she been involved in

her husband’s treatment, spearheaded a campaign for reform of the Mental Health Act. While pleading for sensitive and unsensational coverage of murder suicide, this woman told a media symposium that society has ‘a right to know’ how often these tragedies are happening.

Our urge to protect family affairs which we regard as private and sacrosanct from prying eyes may be well meaning, but it forces us to adopt absurd positions. We almost have to pretend that any one of us can out of the blue, be overcome with murderous intent, which is not just a terrifying prospect in that it makes us all vulnerable to attack from our nearest and dearest but is also patently false.

Most of us are not murderers, even if pushed to our limits.

There are deep-seated and enduring reasons – perhaps connected with mental health or with some severe family dysfunction or character flaw – why family members destroy each other.

If most sexual abuse is perpetrated against children by relatives, then is it such a big leap to accept that aggression and violence can also be part of the fabric of dysfunctional family life?

That much as we wish it were otherwise, not all families are loving and safe.