IN THE old courtrooms, in the round hall of the Four Courts, the accused sits on the end of a bench, removed from the general body of the court. The dock as a concept has long been abolished, but the accused in a criminal trial usually sits alone, opposite the jury.

Throughout the Padraig Nally manslaughter trial, his sister Maureen sat beside him. That was highly unusual. A tourist entering Court 3 on a casual basis might conclude that the man and woman were both on trial for killing a burglar.

Early on in the trial, a number of Nally's supporters slipped onto the far end of the bench.

Judge Kevin O'Higgins requested that they vacate the seat. Visually, such a vista could be loaded. In the trial of the People versus Padraig Nally, it might be confusing as to where the people's allegiance lay.

During breaks in the proceedings, new friends and complete strangers approached Nally in the Round Hall to wish him well. Each day, when he and his supporters made the short trip across the Liffey to lunch, hands reached out to shake his. Since his release from prison in October, the reception for him in rural circles has been even more voracious. At times over the last few weeks, it appeared as if the system, and not Nally, was on trial.

He had the cut of a man who was enjoying the celebrity, whatever about its provenance. The farmer from a rural outpost in south Co Mayo, who lived with his parents until their respective demise when he was in his 50s, was now the focus of affection and admiration from people who got to know him, literally, through the barrel of a shotgun.

The bereaved family of the man Nally killed on 14 October 2004 was nowhere to be seen at the trial. The only one of the late John Ward's 11 children to show up was Tom, who was with his father on the day he died. Tom Ward was brought to the court from his place of detention to give evidence against Nally.

The 20-year-old traveller is serving an 11month sentence for theft offences. He told the court that his father's killing has driven him to attempt suicide on a number of occasions. Neither his plight, nor that of his family, has attracted much sympathy. In killing John Ward, as the traveller limped, possibly crawled away, Nally, in the eyes of many, became a victim. First of criminal travellers, then of the system.

THE EVIDENCE By October 2004, Padraig Nally was living in fear.

"The man was demented with fear, " his neighbour Michael Varley told the court. "I cried last Sunday after my sister left, " Nally told the guards on the day of the killing. "I said that there would be changes when you come back. I had a premonition."

The rational basis for his fear is highly suspect.

Nine months before the killing, in February 2004, a chainsaw was stolen. Drawers in the house were ransacked. Understandably, the sense of violation traumatised him.

Between that time and the killing, he wasn't raided. Now and then, strange cars came by, and he noted down the registration. Others in the rural community did likewise as a precaution.

Three weeks before the fateful day, two travellers in a car stopped and asked Nally directions to the nearby lake. He suspected, quite reasonably, that they were up to no good. But he wasn't raided.

The incidence of burglary in the area wasn't particularly high, at a time when the overall incidence had fallen nationally since the 1990s.

Nally's neighbour Varley, the father of three small children, told the court that he wasn't afraid. Yet Nally was "demented".

His primitive shotgun was held together with a bicycle tube. He moved it from his bedroom to a shed lest raiders would come in, overpower him and shoot him. The 62-year-old farmer spent long hours at night in the shed with the gun, watching over his stead, waiting for them to come.

"About an hour I slept last night thinking it was going to happen, " he told guards after the shooting.

He lived alone through the week while his sister was away teaching in Ballina. He didn't have a telephone in the house. He never married. All he had was his farm, that which defined him, and plenty of time alone, long hours in which the imagination can draw a dark veil over all thoughts. There was no evidence in the trial that his sister or friends had any concern for the level of fear he expressed and whether or not it was rooted in reality.

And fear was what Nally said was the impetus for the killing of John Ward, as he limped, or crawled, down the road, fleeing for his life, after a failed attempt to rob the farmer.

Nally had feared attack, yet it was he who shot Ward on sight when he saw the traveller trying to gain entry to his house. Fear drove him to beat Ward with an ash plant, inflicting serious head wounds, to ensure that he himself wasn't killed. And when Ward limped or crawled away, fear that he might return drove Nally after him.

The farmer reloaded, and put another three cartridges in his pocket.

"It was done with a degree of coolness, " prosecuting counsel Paul O'Higgins told the court.

"He had taken three cartridges out with him. He was ready for action again."

Ward was moving down the road when Nally came up behind him. He shot the traveller from a range of not more than five yards. The trajectory of the fatal shot was downwards, which suggests Ward was crouched, or maybe crawling. He may even have begged for his life.

"I said to myself he wasn't going again, " Nally told the cops afterwards. "I've so long been raided, this was going to be the last time." He was raided once, nine months before, but in his mind the raids may have multiplied and thus justified him in shooting dead a man who resembled the burglar that haunted his waking hours.

Nally didn't take the stand in his manslaughter trial, as was his right. In the original murder trial in Castlebar, he did give evidence. Back then, he had much to gain by personally appealing to a jury. This time the jury members would have been aware of his plight unless they had just arrived from Mars. To give evidence might have been to expose himself to the harsh glare of cross examination, so he declined, as do most defendants in his position.

The respective summing up of the case by O'Higgins and defending counsel Brendan Grehan illustrated the crux of the issue. O'Higgins delved into the law and the facts. Grehan, for the most part, appealed to emotions. In the best traditions of advocacy, he made the most of what he had, telling the jury that "trouble came looking for him [Nally]", and "a greater contrast between two individuals you will not find than between Mr Nally and John Ward". And in reference to the one burglary that did occur:

"When they stole his chainsaw, they stole his peace of mind."

He also tapped into the debate being conducted beyond the confines of the court. "Maybe the law has lagged behind community standards and maybe the impetus should be to change the law."

Judge O'Higgins also made references to the debate. Charging the jury, he held up a copy of the recent Law Reform Commission document on defending the home. "They're thinking about that, " he said, of the commission. "And maybe they even are in Leinster House." But, he told the jury, they were obliged to concentrate only on the facts of the case.

"The law in this country protects nice people and not so nice people, " Judge O'Higgins told the jury. "A man with 80 previous convictions [as Ward had] is entitled to the same degree of protection as the lord mayor of Dublin."

After nearly 16 hours deliberation, over three days, the jury decided that Nally had acted reasonably in following Ward out onto the road that day and shooting him dead.

THE WORLD OUTSIDE The eight men and four women were charged to consider only the facts of the case, but it must have taken a huge effort to keep the world outside from seeping into the jury room.

When Nally was sentenced to six years for manslaughter after the first trial, all hell broke loose. A law that would send a man to jail for defending himself and his property was decried.

The facts were conveniently overlooked, as there was capital to be made on the killing, and the jailing of a man of impeccable character.

There had to be "rebalancing of the law", a political term currently in vogue. Nobody said that Nally should have been protected by the law in his actions, but that subtext informed the debate. Some grubby politicians suggested that homeowners would now be in fear of defending themselves or their property in their home.

Then the Law Reform Commission produced the paper referred to by the judge. Cue more fire and brimstone, more waffle about "rebalancing" and ludicrous suggestions that this was the homeowner fighting back.

The reality was that the Commission merely clarified what "reasonable force" entailed. Legislation following on from the recommendations won't change the amount of force permissible, but will clarify it in respect of homeowners. It always has been legal to use a reasonable amount of force. (Ironically, if such clarity had been in the law at the time of the killing, Nally might have found it more difficult to defend his position in court) Against this backdrop of heightened fear, the retrial was conducted. Then as the evidence closed, and deliberations began, another element of crime exploded. The recent gun murders sparked further debate. The court system was called into question once more. In the battle against crime, the system is being portrayed as protecting the criminal rather than society. That such an analysis is top-of-the-head stuff, purveyed by vested interests, is glossed over. The desired message is getting though.

And in the Nally trial, a large section of the public mind had the dead man cast as the criminal, the accused as victim. To some, convicting Nally would once more be playing into the hands of criminals. Against this backdrop, the jury raked over the killing of John Ward. Charged to consider only the facts, their long spell deliberating indicates they did that in some detail. Any suggestion that the world outside seeped into their collective sub-consciousness can only be speculation.

THE AFTERMATH Nally said afterwards that he was "surprised" at the verdict. So were his supporters. So was almost anybody who sat through the trial. Now, he will return to his farm outside Cross in Co Mayo and attempt to rebuild his life. Few would wish him ill luck. Prior to Ward's attempt to rob him, Nally led a blameless life.

Ward's widow Marie reacted to the verdict with dismay. Earlier this year she married a Ghanaian asylum seeker and now lives in Longford. The court heard that she intends to pursue a civil action against Nally.

She and the wider travelling community see the outcome in stark terms. For them, we may all be equal before the law, but some are more equal than others.