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Fatheads or pratheads?
Michael Clifford



ON the first day, they could have been emerging from a criminal trial. Outside the Four Courts, Alan and Wayne Bradley attempted to hide their faces from the cameras, just like criminals being carted off to prison. By day two, somebody must have had a word in their shell-likes. That is not the way things are done in the civil courts. The brothers were, after all, here to vindicate their good names. So over the following week, on entry and exit to the High Court, their smiles were sweet as pie.

Last Wednesday, the Bradley brothers' libel trial against the Star On Sunday newspaper ended with a victory for the paper. Up until a few months ago, when it became apparent that the paper would fight, the brothers were looking for 450,000 between them in damages.

Now, instead, they face a legal bill for a similar sum. Where the pair, one a horse dealer, the other a security guard, could come up with that kind of cash is anybody's guess.

They may well need it if they are to continue with other libel actions against newspapers which they allege have tarnished their good names.

The six-day trial was in the civil courts, but now and again there was a resonance with the criminal end of things. There was talk of bulletproof vests, and ATM robberies and major drug dealing. Murder was mentioned, and a priest spoke darkly of crime godfathers.

The brothers, who didn't look that comfortable with the whole experience, will have noted another essential difference between the two forms of justice administered.

One often deals with people who attempt to steal money with stockings over their heads, a gun offering the persuasive argument. The other can involve hiring people togged out in an equally ridiculous manner to acquire money by waving the law around. Both can have devastating consequences when things don't go according to plan.

The offending article was published on 13 June 2004. In it the Star alleged that a pair of west Dublin-based brothers, known as "The Fatheads" were the leaders of the most dangerous criminal gang in Dublin. Accompanying photographs blurred their faces, but the brothers claim that other details in the text pointed to them.

The core issue, however, was the fatheads. According to the newspaper, the fatheads was an invented term, a common tactic used when dealing with alleged criminals, like the Monk, the Viper, the Penguin, the Tosser, the Complete Tosser. (Okay, the last one has just been coined).

The paper had "valuable information they needed to pass on without identifying anybody", the Star's counsel Eoin McCullough told the court. It came down to this: was Alan Bradley commonly known as fathead or fatpuss.

He said the former. The paper said the latter, and that he and his brother were not identified, and even if they were, their reputation was not lowered. While the paper couldn't prove the broadsweep allegations in the article, it said that the brothers already had a reputation for being serious criminals.

Because the paper couldn't plead justification . . . being unable to prove the allegations . . . then it was constrained from introducing specific incidents to demonstrate that the pair had a bad reputation. The jury never heard about investigations by the gardai and the Criminal Assets Bureau. It never heard about the occasion when bulletproof vests were discovered on a raid on the Bradleys' mother's house in Finglas. There was to be no mention of Alan's use of a helicopter on his wedding day, an unusual extravagance for somebody claiming to earn around 25,000 a year for dealing in horses and cars.

Giving evidence, 27-yearold Wayne said he was "horrified" when he read the article. He used the word "horrified" a number of times.

He said he was subsequently thrown out of two pubs on foot of the reputation the article thrust on him. The only conviction he has accrued is for breaking a red light. He also used to deal in cars, but these days he works as a security guard for an outfit called Planet Fun.

Alan Bradley has up to 20 convictions, and has spent a few terms in jail, but there is nothing in his record relating to serious crime, like murder, armed robbery or money laundering. He has convictions for possession of an offensive weapon and larceny.

The last time he was in prison was four years ago, when he did an 18-month stretch.

When he read the article, his bodily functions reacted violently.

"I was physically sick, " the 32-year-old horse dealer told the court. "Being blamed for murders and robberies, supposed to be turning Dublin into a hotspot for crime. I was gutted."

Later in his evidence, one of his two senior counsel, Paul Gardiner, suggested in passing, "You told us you were horrified by it." Actually, he never said he was horrified, but the mistake on the counsel's part was understandable. Horror is a default emotion in libel courts. Nary a plaintiff walks through the door without having experienced horror on reading an offending article.

Alan's wife Orla gave evidence. When she was being led through it something disturbed her husband, who rose in a flash of anger and remonstrated with his own junior counsel. Other witnesses testified that they could identify the Bradleys from the article, while two more swore they knew Alan as 'Fathead'.

One of the latter was speaking with the authority of having met Alan twice in the last eight years.

The paper presented three witnesses who testified to the Bradleys' reputation. Detective Inspector Brendan Sherry and community guard Martin Clavin both said they were feared in the community and had a reputation for being involved in serious crime, including robberies and drug dealing.

Any concern that this was an extrajudicial verdict being handed out by gardai on the guilt of individuals had to be tempered by the fact that it was the brothers who dragged their reputation into the court.

A parish priest in Finglas, Fr Seamus Ahern, offered a similar opinion on the brothers' reputation. Following the priest's evidence, the brothers' lawyers applied for the third time to have the jury discharged with costs awarded to their client. Once more, judge Elizabeth Dunne refused.

The jury were told to answer two questions. Were the brothers identified in the article and, if so, what damages should be paid? After two hours they answered no to the first, rendering the second question redundant. The net effect of the Bradleys' action is that a jury deemed they weren't identifiable in the article, but now most readers of any newspaper know it was they who were being referred to in it.

Other actions from the pair are in the pipeline. If they are victims of an outrageous injustice, then it is time for the finer traditions of the Bar to spring into action. The best legal minds in the country should offer their services, free gratis, to ensure that justice is achieved for these vulnerable Davids, faced by the Goliath of a corporate media entity. If they are victims of an outrageous injustice.




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