Mitchell, whose play The Force of Change opened to rave reviews in Los Angeles last week, has unflinchingly told stories of the Troubles and the troubled peace process through the eyes of hardcore loyalists. But Belfast's most accomplished living playwright endured months of intimidation and death threats culminating in the firebombing of his home and car in Belfast last November.

In an exclusive interview with the Sunday Tribune last week, Mitchell said the murder of Denis Donaldson was further proof that hundreds, if not thousands of people who continue to live in fear of terrorists in Northern Ireland, cannot be protected.

"What exactly is the limit of carnage, violence and murder we have to suffer before we can see the end of this process and the search for something better beginning?

Terrorist groups say they are committed to 'only' peaceful means and yet. . . hundreds, if not thousands, of people are living in fear of them and their violence because the police cannot protect them. This murder is just more proof of that fact."

Mitchell, his wife and eightyear-old son went into hiding last November, after he was given four hours to leave his home in the Glengormley district. If he didn't, he was told, all his family and relatives would be killed.

"The toll has been incredible. The fear and paranoia that grows on a daily basis is hard to suffer. To watch members of your own family age significantly in a few short months hurts a great deal, " he said.

His grandmother, Sadie, stayed on in her small flat in the area, but died recently.

As her coffin was being removed, one thug shouted out "One Mitchell dead".

"The early death of my grandmother Sadie could be directly attributed to these thugs as she was being cared for by my mother and father when they were attacked, " Mitchell said. "After one particularly cowardly and evil attack, my wife Alison demanded that they all come and live with us. We had left the area to avoid these types of attacks a few short years previously. I never thought they would attack my family.

My mum and dad lived with us for eight months but my grandmother refused to leave the area and nobody could convince her to come to us. In retrospect, she did have a point, as we mistakenly thought we were safe in a mixed area, and look what happened to us.

"The emotional, physical and psychological damage can only be worsened by the increased financial cost of hiding. I could write a book about the financial burden of upsetting a criminal, paramilitary organisation. It would be accurate but boring."

Mitchell does not know when he can contemplate coming out of hiding and says he has nearly as little confidence in the political process in the North as he does in the police, some of whom he describes as "frightening and dangerous".

"Hours after my car was blown up in my driveway in November, one honest policeman threw his hands in the air and declared, 'We can't protect you, Gary. You need to get the f**k out of the country.' His partner challenged me with, 'But then they win don't they?'

"I have worked with a great deal of policemen. I have studied them for many years and like their loyalist counterparts some of them like the finished project and others hate it.

"One policeman told a BBC producer of The Force of Change that it was as though I was in the room with him during one of his interrogations . . . the play was that accurate."

Unlike Salman Rushdie, Mitchell has not been offered any police protection; indeed he was turned down when he requested it. "I am a victim of jealousy as much as bigotry.

The people behind the rogue group attacking me are very jealous of my success. They have openly said that they are more popular than I am and that they represent my community better than I do.

This explains why as my fame and popularity grows, so does the threat against me. They told me not to make my film, As The Beast Sleeps, based on a play, but I did and it won third prize in the Prix Europa Television Awards and that in itself caused a great deal of anger within the organisation so accurately depicted in it, " he said.

"I found out about most of this while I was researching my next play for the Abbey theatre in Dublin. I was allowed into the Maze prison, shortly before it closed, and spent a great deal of time with loyalist prisoners . . . mostly UDA . . . and I could literally feel the animosity towards me grow on a daily basis.

'Who the f**k was I to be writing about them?' and, 'If I write something bad about them. . .'" Mitchell admits to feeling the same sense of having been let down and cheated by the peace process, as many loyalists do. This further compounds his current dreadful predicament.

"I feel, like most law-abiding Protestant people in Northern Ireland, let down, abandoned, deserted and conned by a government and a process that was supposed to benefit everybody, a process that offered hope and much, much more. . . ultimately leaving us completely undefended, unprotected and isolated.

"I don't like to admit to feeling anger any more than I feel comfortable with my own lust for vengeance but I prefer to concentrate on what really matters and that is of course keeping my family as safe as possible and continuing to work to channel my energy into my scripts."