MICHAEL Stone's war was over. The occasion was a press conference in Belfast, on 24 July 2000. Stone had just been released from the Maze prison under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement. He had served 12 years of a recommended minimum of 30 for six murders. On his release that morning, around 50 supporters turned up to greet him.
He told the press conference that he wanted to do all he could to make a constructive contribution to the Good Friday Agreement. The refrain was similar to that heard from many emerging prisoners at the time. The war was over. Peace had come at last.
Stone, though, was different. Many who had taken up arms on both sides of the conflict were driven by a sense of injustice. When compromise was reached, they were willing to give the new order a go.
Stone was cut from a different cloth. What would become apparent over the following six years was that he wasn't so much driven by a burning desire to save Ulster from Papists and the heathens from the South. He just wanted his picture in the paper, his name in the headlines, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve that aim.
The photographs from Friday's attempted attack on Stormont tell their own story.
Stone is nabbed at the entrance to the building by two security guards, one of whom was female. While they wrestled with him, the wouldbe attacker made sure to look straight at the cameras that were trained on the commotion. This photo better be good, because it was going to be the last one he would grace for a long time to come.
Accordingly, his eyes appeared sufficiently wild.
Craving the limelight
STONE'S craving for the limelight was best exemplified by the attack that brought him notoriety. In March 1988, three IRA members were shot dead in Gibraltar. They were on a so-called active mission, the intention of which was to blow up British bandsmen as they performed in a square in the town, killing as many people as possible. The three were unarmed when an SAS unit approached and shot them dead.
A few days later, the funerals of the three were taking place in Milltown Cemetery in west Belfast. All leading Sinn Fein personnel, including Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness, both of whom were believed to be on the Army Council that sanctioned the Gibralter mission, were present at the funerals.
Stone would later claim that his targets were Adams and McGuinness.
As one of the coffins was being lowered, there was sudden crack, and it became apparent that the funeral party was under attack.
Stone had moved in lobbing grenades and firing from an automatic pistol, before retreating at speed. Three of the mourners, including one IRA man, were killed. As Stone beat a retreat, he was apprehended by some of the mourners and beaten unconscious. His life was saved by the arrival of RUC officers, who had been conspicuous by their absence at the funerals.
Stone never admitted it, but he must have known that he would have little chance of survival in mounting such an attack. But he did survive, and the headlines, as he knew, survived with him, to be placed prominently in the annals of the North's troubles.
Three days later, as one of the victims were being buried, two undercover British soldiers came upon the funeral. Tensions were so high after Stone's attack that the two men were taken from their car, stripped and murdered in a football field.
Afterwards, it emerged that Stone had been responsible for three other murders prior to the Miltown Cemetery outrage. The judge at his trial recommended he serve at least 30 years.
Place in the sun HIS notoriety elevated him to a new plateau among Loyalist paramilitaries, both inside and outside the Maze. He had, at last, achieved his place in the sun. By then, Stone already had two failed marriages behind him, which produced nine children.
When released, his expression of support for the Peace Process was taken at face value. Before Friday, he appeared to retain those sentiments. One reason for this was that, in the intervening six years, he found other means to generate headlines.
He became an artist, citing Picasso and Dali as influences. He had an exhibition, that was feted in a manner that only terrorist chic could be. The work included one piece called 'Alternative Ulster'. Another entitled 'Armaggedon' was priced at £25,000. Stone said of his art at the time: "I lived with it.
Some of it I slept on. There's a wee bit of history behind most of the prison stuff.
There was escapism with the art, especially during lockup."
But art wasn't enough to keep him his face in the papers. At one stage, it was reported that he had to "flee" the North for France because he was the target of Loyalist paramilitaries who were upset at his capitulation to Rome.
Last year, he was arrested by police in London and flown home to Belfast for questioning. Then, in March this year, he plunged to a new nadir, taking part in a BBC series on reconciliation, which was modelled on the South African experience and featured contributions from Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
Silvia Hackett's husband Dermot was murdered by loyalist paramilitaries, and Stone had played a role in the killing.
After much discussion on forgiveness, she walked over to Stone and shook his hand.
The killer then placed a second hand on hers, but this was too much for her. Stone was on stage once more, seeking out the gesture that would bring him maximum exposure.
One-man attack
HE GOT that on Friday with his reprise of launching a oneman attack on the enemy at a time of intense coverage. But the North has moved on somewhat. The darling of the paramilitaries hadn't even been in a position to source a proper gun, and had to do with an imitation. The devices he was planning to explode were primitive and amateur.
And Stone's own grasp for publicity was seen in its rawest form. His next stint behind bars is unlikely to confer on him the notoriety the last one did.
He's on his own now.
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