Stardust Inquests – Day 9 – Pen Portraits

Lawless, Sandra – Brendan Lawless

Hello, I am Brendan Lawless, the youngest brother of Sandra Lawless, victim of the stardust fire. I am here today to tell you all that Sandra Lawless wasn’t only a victim of the stardust fire, Sandra was a beautiful, loving and caring daughter to parents Bridget and Paul and sibling to Annette, Valerie, Paul, Brian, Brendan and Fidelma. Sandra was the 3rd eldest in our family, born on 29th July 1962.

Sadly, our mother Bridget, sister Annette and brother Paul have since passed away but their memories of Sandra are similar to ours and they loved and missed her every day of their lives too. Sandra grew up to be a happy, kind, funny, selfless outgoing, generous sister and daughter who loved life. She loved being out and about, was a group leader in the Girl Guides and was a member of a swimming club. She didn’t really drink and smoke, loved outdoor activities and the outdoor life.

I want to try to give an accurate picture of what Sandra Lawless was really like and I think the best way is to share some of our memories. Unfortunately, as previously mentioned, Sandra’s mam, Bridget, her eldest sister, Annette and younger brotherPaul haven’t survived to be with us and share their memories of Sandra but we all remember how much they loved and missed her.

All of us remember Sandra as the Girl Guide leader, the swimmer who won awards for life saving. The young woman who loved the outdoors, hiking and camping butwas also very meticulous and neat. Even her handwriting was beautiful and she kept the most neat and tidy records of her troop in the guides and won the neatest guide award.

At the time of the Stardust Sandra worked in Gilt Edge making ties with her older sister Valerie and her Aunt Lily. I have vivid memories of hearing Sandra call Valerie every morning to get out of bed stating that the mini-bus is here to pick them up. What I didn’t realise was at that time was that Sandra had got up early, made lunch for both of them, ironed their clothes while still calling Valerie for work. This was the type of self less person she really was. She was so giving of her time. Valerie, who was only a little bit older than Sandra can recall even at a young age how much Sandra loved going hiking in the Dublin Mountains with her and my Dad. She would also recall how Sandra was chief bridesmaid at her wedding, but leading up to that, Valerie who was so laid back and non–fussed, Sandra actually did most of the organising for her including picking out flowers and dresses. It was only 7 months after Valerie’s wedding when the Stardust Tragedy occurred, and Sandra never got to meet any of Valerie’s children whom she would have loved and be loved by them.

Brian not only remembers how Sandra was a kind, funny, selfless outgoing loving person but that she would always put the needs of others before her own. In fact, on that dreadful night as she was getting ready to attend the Stardust, she took time out from this to iron his Scouts uniform because she was laughing at his attempt to do it himself. Sandra actually gave Brian 65 pence to buy a Valentine’s Card for his imaginary girlfriend. He still treasures those coins to this day, as he never got to use them.

Sometimes to Brian, Sandra was like the family bodyguard unbeknown to our Mam and Dad of course, and always stood up for us when we got into silly disagreements with the neighbours over footballs or shouting or just being a cheeky little brat, the usual silly neighbour disputes. He remembers one particular incident when Mrs X from up the road chased him with a sweeping brush for some silly reason like he slammed her garden gate or something like that and Sandra seen her and quickly intervened and took the brush from her and sent her running back up the road without her sweeping brush and without my Mam or Dad ever finding out. That was Sandra, his big sister not wanting him to get into trouble.

What I remember most about Sandra is her kind heart. She helped my mother look after us younger children especially my younger sister and always with a smile on her face.

Even at our young age it was clear to me that Sandra was an exceptional young woman. She always seemed happy to me, even if she was annoyed with you over something, she didn’t lose her temper and I honestly do not recall Sandra ever using a swear word. I remember the last gift she ever bought me. It was Christmas 1980 and she gave me The Clash album London Calling, I couldn’t believe it. I still find it hard to believe that an 18 year old teenager would buy her 12 year old brother such a classic present. I sometimes doubted this and was wary that it may have been a false memory but on going through some of our mementos of Sandra we found her Christmas list in her notebook and not only was the album listed for me there were all so thoughtful presents for everyone. She even had an album listed for Brian that contained a certain swearword but she couldn’t even write that word in her own private notebook.

Sandra was like a second mother to the youngest in our family, Fidelma, whom she doted on and carried around everywhere on her hip from the time she was a toddler. Now it wasn’t only the baby of the family that Sandra helped look after as she also helped her younger brothers and older sisters but she and Fidelma had a very special bond. Fidelma does find it difficult to put into words how much Sandra meant to her. She does remember how much Sandra loved her job and how she was so meticulous about her appearance, her timekeeping, winning the title of the neatest Girl Guide. She also recalls how Sandra was so generous and put everyone before herself. The week before her untimely death, was Fidelma’s 8th birthday and she treated her to a day’s shopping in Cleary’s department store. Sandra bought her a beautiful baby dolls sleeping carriage with a lace canopy and lace coverings. Fidelma always remembers feeling so special playing with it with her friends. She also made sure for her communion she had the best of everything as she was the last in the family to do this.

My Dad, Paul will always remember Sandra as the kind, thoughtful, happy go lucky and full of life daughter that she had grown up to be. He shares fond memories of the daughter who loved hiking and camping and remembers many trips to the Dublin mountains with Sandra by his side.

Sandra didn’t go out very often, but when she did, you could set your watch to herarrival home. On that fateful night, when her usual time passed by, my mam became quite concerned. My dad explained it could be for a number of reasons, hard to get taxi, still talking to friends etc but my mam had an awful gut feeling.

Shortly afterwards, at approximately 2.30am maybe later, a friend of my parents knocked at our door, (we had no house phone at the time) to explain there was a fire. in the stardust and he inquired was Sandra at home. My dad left with him immediately to go down to the stardust to look for Sandra, nobody knew at this stage how tragic and devastating events would turn out.

We all have our own personal memories of that morning but in all, our parents weren’t at home for the next few days, our mam stayed at a friend’s house who had a house phone awaiting news, while our Dad searched every hospital and nursing home that had opened its doors to care and tend to the injured and burnt patrons.

Our Dad searched and searched, seeing fresh burns, hearing the screams and cries of those Injured and burnt, while looking and hoping to find his own daughter amongst the crowds of people. An awful sight for anybody to witness, but for a father looking for his own daughter, it was traumatic and devastating.

He searched for hours, days, and it was on the Monday, upon advice, he went to check with the city morgue. It was here, our dad, our sister Valerie and a friend of Sandra’s were faced with rows of tables with clear plastic bags which contained the victims’ personal belongings. Tragically and sadly, Sandra’s jewellery was discovered in one of the bags, which was then identified by them and matched with Sandra’s dental records. That day all our lives changed forever.

Our family was thrown into turmoil, the younger children of the family got looked after by relations, neighbours and friends, while our Ma and Da set out trying to organise a funeral for their 18 year old daughter, something no parent should ever have to experience or endure.

Sandra was buried in St Fintan’s graveyard in Sutton, a place where we still go to place flowers and remember her. However, it’s not only here we remember her, everyday we remember and talk about her.

The stardust fire and particularly Sandra’s tragic death affected us all in different ways but one common word that we all use is “HEARTBROKEN”.

My mam and Dad didn’t know what way to turn in the days and weeks after the funeral. They were devastated, as we all were and still are. Nobody knew how to react or cope. My dad’s friends brought him to the pub, my man’s friends brought her to bingo…all the while thinking they were helping them. There was no professional help, no counselling or guidance for families. Nobody knew if they were saying or doing the right things. I know Valerie gave up her job as she couldn’t bear to see Sandra’s empty work station.

However, our parents knew they had 6 grieving children who needed them and together since then we have helped and supported each other. We are a strong, close knit, united family. We have been through a hell of a lot but we are still here in unity. As previously stated, we have lost our mam, Annette and Paul and we know they would have loved to see this day come after all the years of fighting for justice for our loved ones.

We don’t celebrate St Valentine’s Day in the usual commercial way. To us it is and will always be a sad time, something that shouldn’t have happened. Sandra’s life should not have been taken away so young, she had her whole adult life to live.

Thankfully we are still a very close family and we gather after the annual stardust mass in our family home and reminisce. They’re are photos in All our homes of Sandra. All our children know about Sandra and they have grown up with her being a part of them. We just wish they had gotten to meet her.

It breaks my dad’s heart when he recalls that he and mam missed out on so much of Sandra’s adult life, the fact that if chosen by Sandra the opportunity to walk her down the aisle, to see if she ever had children, or if she would have travelled the world. Sandra could have achieved anything she put her mind to.

We hope these inquests will give us the answers we have waited over 41 years to receive. Our loved ones died unnecessarily and we are hoping that this inquest will finally get to the truth of what happened that night.

It saddens and angers us that we have had to wait so long for same. So long that Sandra’s Ma, brother & sister didn’t survive to see this day.

No matter what the outcome Sandra will always have a place in our hearts, not just her immediate family but in her nieces and nephews who never even got to meet her.

Francis & Maureen Lawlor – Lisa Lawlor

Let me start off by saying that my faith kept me on this Earth. Not God or family; my faith and the guidance from my deceased parents. I was a very small baby and obviously very frightened and scared, and crying for my mum and dad but my cries went unheard. I listened night after night to my grandmother’s wails, wishing she died and not my father. I was frozen in terror listening to this for years. I was 4, now just started school. I was afraid of school incase nan died or got hurt.

What would happen to me I wondered. Nan always said, “Only God can save us”. But I asked, “Why did he not save mum and dad?”. She said, “You ask him.”. I screamed into my pillow night after night, begging God to help me and then cursed him from the heavens. Why did he do this to me?

Six members of my father’s family went on heroine. I used to make lots of noise going into the house so I wouldn’t get a fright to find that they were dead. That was inevitable anyway. In the future, they were shadows of themselves. Why? The Stardust.

I used to place my hand over their nose and mouth to see if they were still breathing and watch for their chest rising – one died at 42, Dennis. Alison died at 37. I blamed myself.

I was 17 months old when my father, Francis, who was twenty-five years old and my mother, Maureen who was twenty-three years old went out for a few drinks on Valentine’s night.

I have no memories whatsoever of my two parents other than the pain, loss, and complete and utter devastation. I grew up in the shadow of this disaster. I lived with my father’s parents. I’m an only child and the Stardust left me on my own in this world.

Everything I know about my parents is from other people’s stories. When I was a child, I was so hungry for information about my Mum and Dad that I would cling to whatever scraps about their lives I heard from anyone who mentioned them. My aunts and other members of the family told me endless stories about my parents, Maureen, and Francis.

My father, Francis, was the eldest of 12 children.

Francis’s mother, my Grandmother, Lally, remembered him as a little boy who just loved being with other children and wanted to be out and about the whole time. No matter how much she tried to keep him at home, he would always escape. She told me that my father Francis was a bright student who got along well with the teachers and never got in trouble, but was not very interested in academic study, so he left school after his Inter Cert at 16 to start earning money for himself.

A lot of people who knew Francis assumed that he would eventually find his way into the mechanics business because he loved cars and motorbikes and always had something up on concrete blocks outside the house. As soon as he could afford it, he always had his own motorbike and his own car. He loved the freedom that they represented.

Like in any large family, the older ones like my father Francis were often called on to help care for the younger ones. Francis liked spending time with his younger siblings (especially Gerard, who looked just like him) and imagined himself having a big family of his own one day.

My father lived at home until he joined the army in 1976 at 21 years old. A good friend of his from those days called Dennis Farrell remembered him as clever and universally popular, with great leadership skills. The two of them qualified and took part in the passing-out ceremony together on the 4^th of April 1977.

My father Francis was still a bit of a chancer, though. Francis wore two false teeth in the front because of some mishap he had suffered as a child. One day the soldiers were training on the beach. It was very hard work, and the weather was cold. Then, Francis called out that he had lost his two front teeth. The officer in charge checked his teeth and sent him off to the dental hospital to get sorted out, while the rest of the soldiers spent several hours searching the sand for these missing teeth. Francis had put them in pocket, to enjoy some time off at his poor colleagues’ expense.

Even with his carrying on, Francis was good at being a soldier and was a natural marksman who was awarded for his talent on the day that his group of trainees passed out. This was unfortunate in some ways because the army decided to train him in competitive marksmanship, which meant much less of the camaraderie which had drawn him to the army in the first place.

The one thing that everyone tells me when they remember Francis is that he was very good- looking. In those days, films were full of Italian-looking stars like John Travolta, George Hamilton and Tom Selleck who had dark good looks and plenty of hair like Francis. He was also very interested in fashion and loved to be dapper. He spent a lot of money on clothes and often went out and about wearing a full, three-piece, pin-striped suit, with his hair carefully combed and worn in the latest style.

Francis was very popular with girls and women not only because of his looks, but also because of his easy patter. He loved talking and found it very easy to talk to anyone. He could chat his way into – and out of – almost any situation. He was also popular with other young men, because of his easy manner and diplomatic approach to life.

Overall, Francis was a positive and forward-thinking young man. He loved people, liked to talk and was not afraid of hard work.

Maureen – my mother – grew up in Cabra. She was one of seven children. She was a confident child until, at the age of 15, she was seriously hurt, knocked down by a car on Gardiner Street. Her pelvis was badly damaged. Her self-confidence and her school life took a hit. She left school after the Inter-Cert exam to work in a butcher’s shop on Dorset Street in the north inner city, where she wrapped up people’s orders and worked the till.

Maureen was pretty: petite and slender with rosy cheeks, a fashionable blonde perm, and blue eyes. All the boys liked her. However, she did not have a lot of social confidence and

was a shy young woman. By the time she reached her teens, things had started going badly wrong in her family, too. There were some issues in the broader family with mental health and violence. Some of Maureen’s relatives started getting into trouble and one of the effects on Maureen was that she became obsessive about hygiene and having order in her life. Nobody could have looked at her and guessed that she was often anxious about her broader family life, because she was always immaculately dressed and groomed.

This meant that Maureen shared the interest my father, Francis, had in clothes. They fell in love very quickly and got married when Francis was 19 and Maureen was 17. In their wedding photo, they almost look like kids playing at being grown-ups.

All Maureen ever wanted was to be a mother raising a happy family. After the sadness of several miscarriages, I was born. Maureen was thrilled to be a parent for the first time, and she set about organising and decorating our home in meticulous detail. People said it was like a showhouse lifted and set down in an ordinary northside suburb.

Like a lot of young mothers, she was very anxious about getting everything right. Her preoccupation with cleanliness and homemaking increased. She was always concerned about protecting me and keeping me clean. She washed the wheels of my pram every day.

My family would tell me that I was the light of my parents’ life and that they were totally smitten with their baby girl. The only wonder was that they went out that night at all because they never liked to leave me. I have heard so much about my parents and that awful night, that sometimes it feels as though I had been there myself. Over the years, I feel as though I have been able to piece together much of what happened on the last night of their young lives.

My Dad said to my Mum that they’d hardly been out since the wedding, and even less since I was born. He said it was Valentine’s weekend and they should take some time to themselves for once.

My mum, Maureen, was not sure at all about going out. She hated leaving me alone and always kept me spotlessly clean and dressed in beautiful clothes. She hardly ever let my aunties and cousins touch me and hated the thought of leaving me with a babysitter, especially because I was just getting over a cough.

My Dad persuaded her by explaining that he had an invitation to go to the disco in the Stardust, and that there was going to be a dancing competition there that night. He took his wedding ring off and put it on top of the telly to keep it safe before they went out.

My parents ended up staying longer than they originally had intended but they were having a lot of fun and did not want to miss the dance competition.

Francis, my dad, managed to get out of the inferno and into the cold night air which must have hurt his scorched lungs. He started to run around looking for Maureen in the huddled groups of young people in a state of shock outside. None of them knew who Maureen was and just shook their heads, many crying or unable to speak. Francis realised she was still inside.

Francis filled his lungs with air and ran back into the fire to get her. Neither Francis nor Maureen ever came out again.

Francis and Maureen’s funeral was a group funeral with other victims held in Donnycarney church in Artane. Mourners spilled outside into the church grounds and many of the young people who had survived the fire, some still in bandages, came to the funeral to say goodbye to their friends. People have told me about seeing me there holding my grandmother’s hand. Though I don’t remember the funeral, I am glad that I was there.

When news had come through that there was a terrible fire at the Stardust, the teenage girl who had been hired to mind me ran out of the house in a panic because one of her family members was at the disco. In her fright, she must have completely forgotten about me or assumed somebody would come and take care of me. I was all alone.

I was alone in our little house until 11am the next morning when my mother’s parents, Paddy and Elizabeth Farrell, came to get me. My nappy was full and I was standing in my cot, screaming and beating my little head against the bars as if I knew something terrible had happened.

Francis’ body was identified and released to the family for burial first. After several days, so was Maureen’s body, even though it was difficult to identify her. The coroner relied on the fact that that she had broken a hip as a young girl. Maureen had thought she was pregnant, but we never able to know, as the coroner concluded that she had died from burns and her body was hardly recognisable as that of a human being.

After losing her daughter, Maureen’s mother, Elizabeth, was broken. She had a sudden heart attack four weeks after the fire, dying at only 54 years old. Her heart broke.

Francis’s mother, Lally, was crying day in, day out. Like Maureen’s mother, she was in her mid-fifties and had raised her family. Now, when she must have been looking forward to some reduction in responsibilities, she was faced with having to raise me, her son’s daughter.

Without my Mammy and Daddy, I was an inconsolable infant. Night after night, I cried, and she had to come to me. “The only good thing about it”, she said when she told me about it later, was that it took her mind off thinking about how her son had suffered in the fire. “The fire used to go round and round in my head”, she said, “and I was tormented with the thought of the pain he had been in. At least when you were screaming, I couldn’t think about it.”

Whenever my grandmother hugged me, it broke her heart and she would just start crying. So I just started going into myself at that stage and I decided then that I was just going to be around her, and not look at her. Because when I looked at her, she cried.

She wore my father’s wedding ring on a chain around her neck for years, before giving it to me.

For her husband, Robin, the loss of his son, Francis, became a source of festering anger. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what it was.

I remember starting school and kicking the legs off the teacher because I just did not want to be there, or anywhere. My grandmother took me by the hands in the corridor and told me “you’re a big girl now, you have to go to school, you’re going to be okay” and I kept looking up at her saying “when is my mam and dad coming?”. She said “they are gone to heaven, and they won’t be back.”. It was right on that school corridor that I realised that was it. Because if they were ever coming back, it would have been today. The day I was starting school. They had to be back at that stage.

Part of me died and I was never normal, whatever that is. My heart was broken.

After my grandparents died, there were times I felt “I’m done” and “I can’t go on”. I have a wound that has never healed. Life was just too hard to cope with.

I have sometimes allowed myself to feel angry at my Dad for going back into the flames for my Mum.

There is every reason to assume that, if Maureen and Francis hadn’t gone on that rare night out, they would have had happy, productive lives, filled with the children Maureen longed for, and the fulfilling work life, with colleagues and banter, that Francis had such talent for.

Anyone from Dublin knows that if the disco had been in an affluent Southside suburb, rather than a working-class area of the Northside, the victims would not have been blamed for their own deaths, as happened in the first inquiry into the fire. The allegation of arson added insult to injury.

I have always wondered what my parents’ last thoughts might have been and what happened to them in their final few minutes on Earth. I wonder about them suffering. I wonder whether Francis, my Dad, ever reached Maureen, my Mum, or whether he died without finding her. I wonder whether they realised that their lives were about to end. I wonder whether they tried to comfort one another before it was too late. I wonder if they thought about their baby girl.

I am hopeful that, all these years after they were killed in the Stardust, they will finally get the justice that they deserve.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Margaret Kiernan – Dierdre Dames obo Jimmy Kiernan

My sister’s name was Margaret. I’m James, her older brother.

Margaret had babysat for me and Susan, minding our newborn first girl (the only one she got to meet).

My memories of her are all of having fun and talking to her about her love of sports and going out with her friends. Margaret had a vast number of friends. Many of them through her love of sports and socialising. Her best friends were Rosie, Liz, Adrian, and Sandra. But her best friend is still to this day Dierdre who is still very close to my mother, me and John.

Here are Dierdre’s memories of Margaret: Dierdre and Margaret met in primary school and became best friends. Both were fans of sports including soccer, hockey, basketball and both excelled in all three. As they grew up together, discos and trips out for the day became as important as the sports. Margaret loved her makeup and dressing up for any occasion. Dierdre fondly remembers their first trip to town on their own. A visit to the cinema followed by a burger and chips in the steak house on O’Connell Street. This started their love of discos and meeting up with friends.

Margaret had a love of music and used to scream out a version of Roxanne. Like most young girls, she dreamed of just being happy, getting married and having children. And moving into a house next to Dierdre.

The night of the Stardust fire was the night it broke our family. Me and my brother John spent the following days searching hospitals and then the morgue, hoping against hope. Maybe she was still alive.

The funeral brought it home. We were never going to see our baby sister again. My parents at the time were inconsolable and suicidal. They were never the same people after that terrible night.

My father returned to work after a very long absence. I worked in the same section in Dublin Airport. One day, an airport police officer who vaguely knew my dad stopped me and, not knowing I was his son, asked me how he was doing. I didn’t get a chance to answer. He just said he looks like his soul has been sucked out. I asked him how would he feel if his daughter had died in horrific circumstances. People outside the family and close friends could have no idea the effect it was having and continues to have to this day.

Our mother is still alive today at the age of 91. There’s not a single day where she doesn’t speak about Margaret and there are tears most of the time. As for me, it was a pleasure to have had her in my life (the short time that it was).

Although the rest of my daughters never got to meet Margaret, they all feel that theyknew her well. My brother’s family are the same, as they like mine were all brought up with Margaret’s memory.

My brother John has the following to say:

My name is John Kiernan, older brother of Margaret. I don’t have any great memories of Margaret when we were very young as I really only started to get to know her from when she was in her mid-teens and I would have been in my lateteens.

She would have had a wide circle of friends from her school pals to her football pals, and she had recently started work and was quite popular even through she was the new girl in the job. Ironically, her job was based in Butterly Park. Margaret introduced me to a lot of her friends and in fact encouraged myself and my now wife to date.

Margaret used to travel to Glasgow a lot and stay with family over there and I understand she had a few friends over in Glasgow. Even now, some 40 years after her death, some of her friends stay in touch with the family.

The night Margaret was killed my mother and father had their lives taken from them also. The spirit went from both of them and they would never be the same people again.

For me it was like role reversal at 21 years of age, wondering what I would be coming home to where both parents took heavy to drink and tranquilisers, listening to their sorrow for months on end. Thankfully, they both came out the other side albeit heartbroken. I am sure our story is not unique among the victim’s families.

My own upset, as I said at the start of this, is that I was really only getting to know Margaret on adult terms and you wonder what would have been. She is often mentioned in family conversations and asked about by my children, but having never met her, stories and photos are all we have to share with them. So my biggest regret is that after 41 years, that we still are searching for justice. As was pointed out recently, if this happened in a more affluent area the case would have been solved at the outset.

Sadly, my mother has passed away since this statement was last written she passed away on 14th June 2022 in St Francis Hospice aged 92. She was asking for Margaret with her dying breath. Hopefully Margaret is reunited with mam and dad and with the right outcome of this court, may she rest in peace.