As he talked to two teenagers, this affable, chatty man who almost appeared to be a victim of circumstance, transformed into a dangerous, opportunistic paedophile in front our eyes
When allegations first surfaced in Scotland about Jim McCafferty in December 2016, the Record traced him to Belfast – where Jilly Beattie, from our sister paper the Daily Mirror, went to confront him. Here, she reflects on a life-changing meeting JIM McCafferty met us at the lift of his Belfast apartment block and walked us slowly to his neat, little home.
I was going to see him with hope of hearing a confession – of child sex abuse.
It didn’t seem likely from the outset. Who would admit something so vile to a complete stranger?
But McCafferty – fat, frail, barely able to walk and obviously struggling with ill health – invited myself and photographer Alan Lewis in and politely asked us to sit down.
I explained I wanted to talk about safeguarding issues involving 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 was interrupted by his confession to child sex abuse.
The former Celtic youth coach and kitman took less than one hour to explain activities he had participated in, claiming they were merely “a bit of hilarity”. Fun back in the day, no harm done.
But he later said he knew in his heart his time was up and his freedom was coming to an end.
McCafferty was anxious about his personal safety, wondering if his confession would appear in the paper the next day.
He was worried he would have to leave his home and knew the conversation was leading only one way – straight past the post office and on to a PSNI station for questioning and a confession.
I had approached McCafferty to ask specific questions about claims of child sex abuse.
Within 54 minutes, he had given me enough 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, interest, attraction and contact.
But when the photographer and I left the flat, we both felt we had left a vulnerable old man to deal with his demons.
Oddly, we agreed that we felt no loathing towards him. In fact, we almost felt sorry for him.
We made our way to a cafe on Ormeau Road to try to work out what exactly had just happened. In truth, we were somewhat non-plussed.
We had heard what McCafferty had said loud and clear and he was aware he was being recorded.
He admitted to dreadful, perverse and criminal activity.
This man had confessed to paedophilia yet we walked away feeling we had wronged him.
But we both felt there was more to come and 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 in the cafe were a mum and her two children muddling through homework and buns.
Exactly 17 minutes after we sat down, the happy noise coming from the neighbouring table was interrupted by a phone call.
It was McCafferty. He said: “Jilly, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
He asked us to come back to his flat, where he told us a more wide-ranging confession in stark, casual and disturbing terms. He confirmed he was a paedophile
I’m glad it was you two. In fact, I’m delighted McCAFFERTY AFTER HE CONFIRMED VILE CLAIMS
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.”
I confirmed to McCafferty that his next move would need to be a visit to the PSNI, where his confession would take matters on to a legal footing.
I helped him pack a little overnight back with medication, a prescription, pressure socks and a few changes of clothing. I then drove him to Musgrave Street PSNI station in Belfast city centre.
There he met a solicitor and agreed to make a confessional statement to police.
In the waiting area, this affable, chatty man – who appeared to be almost a victim of circumstances – transformed in front of us.
Too unsteady to stand for long, he chose to sit in the public waiting area – right beside two 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 had felt sorry 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 of child abuse appeared to be lost on him.
He gave me a wounded look and said: “Och, I’m only being friendly.”
Then he turned to them and, with a pained expression, told them: “I’ve never been in trouble before.”
The teens assured him he would be OK and watched McCafferty intently as he shuffled his way into a police interrogation suite with his solicitor to make his confession.
From Musgrave PSNI station, he was transported to Maghaberry Jail in County Antrim, for his own safety.
He was subsequently jailed for three years for offences carried out in Northern Ireland.
And yesterday, after his initial statement to two strangers who rang the buzzer of his South Belfast flat more than two years ago, he was finally prevented from being a danger to children in Scotland, too.