In August 2001, a special unit at the Revenue dealing exclusively with Haughey requested an upto-date statement of affairs from the former taoiseach. They wanted a list of everything he owned . . . houses, land, bank balances, stocks, shares, pension policies, artwork, jewellery, antiques and yachts. Haughey was given 60 days to respond with the information.

His advisers, led by accountant Des Peelo, expressed surprise at the request. They believed that the Revenue was going to leave their client alone until after the Moriarty tribunal had completed its investigations into his financial affairs.

They also raised the issue of Haughey's poor health. While the Revenue wanted its statement, it extended the deadline to January 2002. Other outstanding information about Haughey's tax affairs was also due around that date.

Consultations continued between the two sides.

At an internal meeting on 15 March 2002, senior Revenue officials decided that the best way forward was to enter into discussions with Haughey's advisers with a view to reaching a settlement.

The decision was taken after the receipt of legal advice on the options available. Making a credible income-tax assessment against Haughey was going to be problematic. Income tax must stem from an activity which was going to be difficult to prove given the source of much of Haughey's unexplained wealth. Instead, they decided to levy Capital Acquisitions Tax on all the payments revealed to that date at the Moriarty tribunal.

The two sides met again on 29 April 2002. The Revenue officials had two key questions to which they wanted answers . . . what steps were being taken "to bring order" to Haughey's tax affairs, and did his advisers have "a full view" of their client's affairs to resolve matters. The minutes of the meeting show the tax officials observed that Haughey "had been in receipt of very substantial amounts of money, the proper taxation of which is now a pressing concern for Revenue".

Haughey's advisers argued that their client was broke . . . and was "surviving" on borrowings from the Irish Nationwide Building Society. His only assets were his Abbeville house and about 27 acres on land at his Kinsealy estate. "The sheer details required on the statement of affairs form would be enormous and unlikely to add significantly to the overall picture, " the minutes recall Haughey's team arguing. The Revenue was also told that any request to meet with Haughey would be declined.

There was talk of nailing down a baseline figure in relation to taxable receipts. Further meetings took place in June and July 2002 but without any serious progress. The following September, Peelo put a settlement figure on the table . . . Haughey was prepared to offer £2m ( 2.54m). The money would come from the sale of land at Kinsealy. Norman Gillanders, a senior Revenue official, said the figure was too low, but it was the basis for negotiation.

The Revenue minutes of the meeting note that Peelo said there was an urgent need to settle as Haughey was dying.

After the meeting, Gillanders prepared an analysis of what could be got from the former taoiseach.

A figure of £6.5m ( 8.3m) was the top figure, but that was considered unattainable, so a range between £3.25m ( 4.1m) and £3.8m ( 4.8m) was signalled as achievable. The amounts were based on estimates of Haughey's expenditure between 1977 and 1997. The addition of interest and penalties would increase these figures.

The Revenue, and Haughey's advisers, had a daylong meeting in early October 2002. Complicated financial affairs gleaned from the tribunal investigations were analysed, including discussions on deer stock, Dail income, farm accounts and payments from Ben Dunne. The meeting was told that Haughey was living on his state pensions (in the region of 100,000) and bank borrowings secured on his Kinsealy property. It was also revealed that he "ran an account with Celtic Helicopters and paid for any transport received".

The Revenue officials pitched for a settlement figure of 5.5m, which included tax and interest capped at 100%. An eventual figure of 5m was agreed subject to approval by the board of the Revenue. A final agreement was signed in March 2003, although Revenue can still seek additional taxation from the former taoiseach should more information about his finances come to light.

Over the coming weeks, the Moriarty tribunal will probe the background to the deal and will concentrate on why the assessment was determined on the basis of capital tax as opposed to income tax which would have meant the bill Haughey faced would have been substantially higher. The tribunal legal team will want to know why the interest on Haughey's tax liability was capped at 100%, and why the penalties imposed were so low. The former taoiseach made the single largest tax settlement up to that date but his name did not appear on the Revenue's list of tax defaulters.

Individuals are only outed as tax evaders if their penalties exceed 15% of their tax liability.

The Revenue believes it got a good deal, and last week at the Moriarty tribunal Norman Gillanders defended its work. "Different conditions mean different payments are subject to different taxes, " he explained. This is an argument, however, which cut little ice this weekend with Conor O'Mahony, a Cork-based financial adviser representing many holders of bogus non-resident accounts who were hit with big tax bills and were publicly named as tax evaders. "It would seem that Mr Haughey came out better not only because of who he was but also because of the expertise he had available to him, " O'Mahony told the Sunday Tribune.

One of O'Mahony's clients, Ann Fagan from Co Laois, was hit with a 40,000 tax bill over a bogus non-resident account she inherited from her late husband. Fagan, a pensioner in her 70s, paid tax of 10,000 and penalties/interest of 29,000 on an original account balance of 5,000. "To be named as a tax evader . . . that was a shock, " she said of her dealings with the Revenue. Another of O'Mahony's clients, Paddy Campion, a farmer in the midlands, reached a 180,000 settlement with the Revenue.

Campion also saw his name listed as a tax defaulter in the national media. "I'm branded a tax cheat and a criminal, " is how he described his situation.

"The naming and shaming of these ordinary people has had an enormous effect on them. They will now feel very aggrieved and hurt that Mr Haughey's name was not published, " O'Mahony said.

While not condoning tax evasion, Labour's finance spokeswoman Joan Burton recalled that in the past "the Revenue could be very tough with people, especially those running small businesses".

She added, "A lot of people who got the full treatment and had the book thrown at them will be aggrieved. It is now important that the Revenue are fully examined by the Moriarty tribunal to see how they approached the Haughey case."

WHEN his Mercedes entered the upper yard of Dublin Castle, coins rained down on the black exterior. Sitting in the passenger seat, Charlie Haughey did what came most naturally to him. He issued a regal wave. Outside, around 30 protestors lobbed the coins, a practice borrowed from Italy where corrupt politicians were ten a penny.

Haughey couldn't have been surprised by any of it. He got out of the car and slipped into the entrance to George's Hall, where the Moriarty tribunal was sitting.

It was soon after 9.15am on Friday 21 July, 2000, and the chieftain was being brought to book, or at least facing the stocks of public humiliation. In little over an hour, he would begin accounting for his time in public life as the tribunal explored whether or not his functions were compromised by the £8m he received from wealthy businessmen.

The protestors were corralled behind steel barriers. Some of them brandished placards. As the Mercedes came to a halt, they found voice as one. "Your island/ your yacht/ your shirt/ you're caught."

Elsewhere in the yard, tourists looked on at the mini-spectacle, unaware that they were watching the denouement of the career of the most colourful and controversial figure in the latter half of 20th century Ireland.

Prior to his appointed day, there had been speculation as to whether he would turn up. Over three years previously, he had endured an appearance at Moriarty's precursor, McCracken. But he had blustered . . . and lied . . . his way through that, brushing off all suggestions of impropriety. Three years on, the fog was clearing.

There would be nowhere to hide this time round.

Another reason why some couldn't see him showing up was that he appeared to keep beating the system. The previous month, Dublin Circuit Criminal Court judge Kevin Haugh indefinitely postponed his trial for obstructing McCracken on the basis that Haughey couldn't receive a fair trial in the near future. This flowed from publicity around his case, primarily remarks by the Tanaiste Mary Harney that he should be jailed. As with his leadership travails in the 1980s, Haughey was once again blessed by his enemies and looked like he could well slither off the hook.

It wasn't to be. Just over an hour after arriving in Dublin Castle, he took the stand. For five days at the height of the summer of 2000, he gave evidence. His testimony was confined to two hours a day on medical advice. At 74, he wasn't the dynamo of old.

Inside George's Hall, around 50 spectators squeezed in with a media complement that wasn't too far short of that number. An overflow hall with a video link-up was provided in the basement of the building.

On the stand, Haughey attempted to retain his dignity as accounts of how he had been a kept man were laid before him. Early on, he suggested that the late Des Traynor handled most of his finances.

He, the chieftain, had been ignorant of the detail as he was too busy running the country. This stuff was related in an even voice, as if it could be credible that Haughey, a highly intelligent man, wouldn't have wondered how he was living like a country squire on a politician's salary.

The hearings resumed on 21 September.

The crowds thinned out a little as the novelty wore off. The public humbling of a man who had bestrode public life for decades no longer had to be seen to be believed. Most of the gallery was filled by people in late middle-age, those of Haughey's generation, as if they were there to bear witness to an unearthed version of how things were secretly done when they were in their prime.

On 15 October, Haughey's counsel, Eoin McGonigal, revealed that his client was suffering from prostate cancer, first diagnosed in 1995. Further examination might shorten his life, the inquiry was told. Independent checks were done on the witness on the tribunal's behalf. Eventually, it was agreed that he would give further evidence in private, for shorter sittings.

This arrangement persisted until the following March, but the public had had its pound of flesh by then and wouldn't get any more.

One Sunday night in March, Haughey collapsed at home and had to be rushed to hospital. The worsening of his health signalled the end of his direct involvement with the tribunal. The inquiry's personnel threw some shapes but there was little appetite to chase him into the grave, or even prison. Whatever he had done, he didn't deserve that.

Five years on, the tribunal is still in motion, and due to report finally this year.

So far, there doesn't appear to be any real evidence to directly link payments for favours. This is in sharp contrast to the other end of the yard, at the planning inquiry where Ray Burke was deemed to have been bribed, and others are bound to fall when the next report is issued.

Haughey may have covered his tracks a lot better than his old north Dublin colleague. Maybe he wasn't asked for favours.

Maybe he was and he refused to deliver.

Either way, few believe that the money didn't at least buy influence, or an unspoken pledge to give favoured consideration to the broad interests of the class of people funding his lifestyle.

Five years after walking from the tribunal, the squire continues to defy the gloomy prognosis that his life was in imminent danger. Apart from the bitty business of tax, his alleged crimes and misdemeanours have largely gone unanswered.