Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
As he talked to two teens, this affable, chatty man turned into a paedophile in front of our eyes
Moment Mccafferty confessed to horrific crimes
IT was an extraordinary interview – Jim Mccafferty met us at the lift of his Belfast apartment building and walked us slowly to his neat little home.
I was there with the hope of hearing a confession from him, a confession of child sex abuse.
It didn’t seem likely from the outset. Who would admit something so vile to a complete stranger on their doorstep?
But Mccafferty, fat, frail, barely able to walk and obviously struggling with physical ill health, invited myself and photographer Alan Lewis inside and politely invited us to sit down.
I explained I wanted to talk about safeguarding issues among children and young people in football and football clubs.
As I spoke he appeared to listen intently, head almost bowed, staring at a batch of Christmas cards he had intended to post the next day.
Alongside them was a stack of red £50 notes to accompany his messages of seasonal cheer.
But Mccafferty’s plan to make his way to the post office was interrupted by his confession to child sex abuse.
The former Celtic youth coach and kitman took less than one hour to explain perverted activities he had participated in, claiming it was merely “a bit of hilarity”, no harm done.
But he later said he knew in his heart his time was up, his freedom was coming to an end.
Mccafferty was anxious about his personal safety, asking if his confession would appear in the paper the following day, worried he would have to leave his home, and knowing the conversation was leading only one way – straight past the post office and on to a police station for questioning and his promised confession.
I had approached him to ask specific questions about claims of child sex abuse after a reader called the newsroom of our sister paper in Scotland, The Daily Record. Within 54 minutes of ringing Mccafferty’s bell, he had given me enough to enable us to publish not only the claims but, incredibly, his confession.
After a lot of talk about football, I put the claims to Mccafferty and he confirmed his association and contact with, interest in, and attraction to young boys, specifically the lads he coached in football teams.
But when the photographer and I left the flat in a building that once housed Belfast’s famous Curzon cinema, we both felt we had somehow left a vulnerable old man to deal with his demons.
Oddly, we agreed we felt no loathing towards him, in fact we almost felt sorry for him.
We made our way to a cafe on the Ormeau Road to try to work out what exactly had just happened.
In truth, we were somewhat nonplussed. We had heard what Mccafferty had said loud and clear. He was aware he was being recorded.
He admitted to dreadful, perverse and criminal activity.
This man had just confessed to paedophilia and yet we walked away feeling we may have wronged him.
But we both felt there was more to come and we were reticent to move from the area.
Alan and I sat in silence with mugs of tea steaming in front of us. The only
other customers were a mum and her two beautiful children muddling through homeworks and buns.
Exactly 17 minutes after we sat down, the happy noise coming from our neighbouring table was interrupted by a phone call. It was Mccafferty who simply said: “Jilly, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
He asked us to come back to his flat where he told us a wide-ranging confession in stark, shockingly casual and disturbing terms.
He confirmed he was a paedophile and admitted he had expected a knock at the door one day.
He told us: “You’ve been excellent. I’m glad it was you two. In fact I’m delighted.”
With a solicitor secured, I confirmed to Mccafferty his next move would be a visit to the PSNI where his confession would take matters on to a legal footing. From there, there would be no turning back.
I helped him pack a little overnight bag with medication, a prescription, pressure socks and a few changes of clothing, then I drove him to Musgrave Street PSNI station in the city centre.
There he met a solicitor and agreed to make a confessional statement to police. In the waiting area, this affable, chatty man, the man who appeared to be almost a victim of circumstances, transformed in front of our eyes.
Too unsteady to stand for long, he chose to sit in the public waiting area – right beside two young teenagers.
He started chatting to them and by the time I had walked the few feet from the reception desk to Mccafferty, he already had their names, where they lived and their ages.
This was Mccafferty the paedophile, this was the opportunist we’d felt bad for, this was the truth of his rotten character. The irony that he decided to chat to youngsters inside a PSNI station moments before his planned confession to child abuse appeared lost on him.
He looked at me with a wounded expression when I reproached him, and said: “Och, I’m only being friendly.”
Then he turned to them with a pained expression and told them: “I’ve never been in trouble before.”
The teens assured him he would be OK and watched Mccafferty intently as he shuffled into an interrogation suite with his solicitor to make his confession.
From Musgrave Street station he was transported to Maghaberry jail in Co Antrim for his own safety and from there to HMP Addiewell, West Lothian.
And yesterday – 890 days after his initial statement to two strangers who rang the buzzer of his South Belfast flat – he pleaded guilty to sexually abusing another 27 children and was sent back to jail to await sentencing.