Seated on a plush chair with her legs folded beneath her, Geraldine Finucane takes in the grandeur of her extensive backyard. The peaceful melodies of birds and soft chirping of the wind chimes are punctuated by the sudden appearance of a neighbour’s cat at the window. Turning to tend to the feline, she shares the animal’s preference to call this residence from the others, with a light-hearted roll of the eyes and a genial grin.
Her residence, an isolated red-brick home fronted by automatic gates and an inconspicuous security camera, is tucked away on a serene, tree-lined street in northern Belfast. Alongside her legal practitioner husband, Pat Finucane, she moved into this house in January 1986 with their three offspring. Their journey together began in the late sixties at Trinity College in Dublin where they met as students.
Beside her, through a partial cream door, a peek into their kitchen coloured with profound, dark-blue walls is granted. This was the room where a horrifying incident occurred one Sunday evening in February 1989. As the family gathered for their evening meal, Pat, then 39, was brutally attacked by loyalist paramilitary forces, suffering 14 bullet wounds as his family watched in horror. Their youngest son, John, merely an 8-year-old boy, witnessed the harrowing scene.
Remaining fragments of a bullet that grazed Geraldine during the shooting still linger in her ankle. Her daughter, Katherine, jokingly mentions that the remnants cause her mother to beep while passing through airport security checks. Geraldine downplays the incident and the residual bullet fragments, highlighting the fact that the outcome could have been much dire. Appearing reluctant to discuss the incident in detail, she prefers to maintain her privacy on the matter.
The 35-year-long pugnacity towards injustice led by Geraldine and her children concluded with the British government’s verdict. The culmination followed a series of government-ordered probes that uncovered the British state’s involvement in the assassination carried out by the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) – findings that resulted in an apology from former British Prime Minister, David Cameron in 2012.
The public inquiry into the murder of Pat Finucane, a defence solicitor who was murdered during Northern Ireland’s Troubles, was met with widespread interest. Notably, from influential human rights groups, distinguished legal entities, and prominent US politicians. Originating from the Lower Falls region of Belfast, Finucane’s homicide garnered international media attention. Notably, Kerry Kennedy, daughter of the former US senator Robert F Kennedy and niece of the former US president John F Kennedy, was one of many who reached out to the family.
In advance of Benn’s House of Commons announcement regarding Finucane’s case, his widow Geraldine embarked on a journey of over 1,400km from Spain back to Belfast, accompanied by her oldest grandson Piaras. They made their way via southern France, to share in the stunning views of the Millau viaduct before they got onboard the Cherbourg-to-Dublin ferry. The 74-year-old Geraldine has made this journey countless times alone to enjoy summers in northern Spain, a place she discovered along with Pat on a family trip, and where her seven grandchildren have regularly visited.
Despite Benn’s request for a personal meeting, the family was not convinced that the inquiry was imminent. Geraldine’s daughter Katherine states they didn’t speculate either way and had a mindset of, ‘here we go again’. During the meeting, the family’s legal team, led by Peter Madden, Finucane’s legal associate and friend, was also in attendance. On hearing Benn’s decision, the room was silent. Geraldine calls it ‘quite unbelievable’.
Over the years, Geraldine has become synonymous with the campaign for justice, despite holding her personal life close to her chest. Her two sons, John, the Sinn Féin MP for North Belfast, and Michael, who are both solicitors, have taken on greater visibility in the campaign in past years. A native Protestant from a middle-class family in East Belfast, Geraldine reflects on a media dialogue around a decade after her husband’s murder.
I remember having a chat with a reporter prior to a studio interview. I was presumed to be here to represent the perspective of a middle-class Catholic, likely due to my name, Geraldine. I corrected him that I wasn’t Catholic to his surprise. I was actually brought up as a Presbyterian, attending church and Sunday school with my grandmother. Back in those days, I was quite naive about west Belfast and its political issues.
I studied English, philosophy and geography at Trinity in 1968, joining a wave of Northerners migrating south. Among us was Pat Finucane, eldest in his family. During that period, the norm for Catholics was to seek a permission letter from the bishop to attend Dublin’s reputed “Protestant” university. Pat, however, never sought that permission – he followed his best friend who also began studying there a year prior. He ended up leading the football team as the captain for two years.
I happened to meet Pat through a friend’s boyfriend who was also on the soccer team. Those times spent at Trinity were precious, more so when we had our cinema outings to catch double features. The campus was a haven; once inside, you could easily forget the world of Dublin outside.
After our graduation in 1972, we intended to spend the summer in Dublin, but had to head north to Belfast unexpectedly one June weekend owing to the tragic death of Pat’s brother, John, in a car accident. We decided to stay.
We took a flat in Lenadoon estate in west Belfast, a republican area. In the 70s, being there was quite an experience, particularly as I, an east Belfast native. In the early 80s, we shifted to north Belfast due to its affordability.
Pat transitioned from being a legal apprentice to becoming one of the leading solicitors in the North, taking on the British government in a series of high-profile cases. Despite the potential hazards of his work, we were kept in the dark about any threats; we were shockingly unaware.
In 1981, he acted as the legal representative for the hunger striker, Bobby Sands. Despite having clients who were loyalists, the high proportion of cases involving the British state resulted in him being deemed an “IRA attorney”. Pat’s work was never a topic of conversation at home, and their only protection against intrusion was a simple security system.
Jesting, his wife and daughter recall Pat instructing his children to accurately record incoming phone messages on a notepad located on a stand by the phone in the entrance. They were required to document the date, caller’s name, contact number, and any messages, otherwise, their father made sure to remind them of the protocol. “If only I had held onto those notepads,” Geraldine muses.
She shares that her daughter, only ten at the time, would answer calls from police stations whilst reflecting, “It was simply part of my father’s profession.” It was later discovered that on three distinct occasions MI5 had been alerted that the UDA intended to assassinate Pat Finucane; these threats began as early as 1981.
“We hadn’t the slightest clue of the danger; not once was Pat informed. Had we known then…,” Geraldine trails off. Hints of fear first began to surface three weeks before Pat’s death when Douglas Hogg, a junior home office minister, suggested to the House of Commons that unnamed solicitors excessively sympathised with the IRA.
Upon learning of Hogg’s statement, Geraldine distinctly remembers standing in her kitchen feeling a profound sense of anxiety. Yet, prior to this incident, she had no concerns regarding their safety. Pat’s death, however, sparked many unresolved questions and everything started to align.
In 2000, Geraldine herself was subjected to death threats and seriously contemplated leaving their home for the first and only time in her life. “In my 50s, I was left with three options: leave the jurisdiction, relocate or secure the home. I was away for eight weeks.”
Geraldine states, “No sane individual would welcome an inquiry, given that it has taken three and a half decades. Who would want to subject themselves to that?”
Quizzed on whether she ever entertained thoughts of abandoning the pursuit, especially after consecutive UK administrations dismissed the demand for an enquiry, she vehemently negates, speaking fondly of the unprecedented support from the public, particularly from unknown people. “One day I was at Ikea, and this man approached me, telling me to ‘persevere’. When Katherine enquired after his identity, I honestly confessed I was clueless. Thankfully, I’ve never encountered anyone who said anything unpleasant.”
“Mum can’t really go anywhere without someone sparking a conversation,” Katherine interjects. Some revelations from the Finucane investigations have offered insights into other notorious sectarian assassinations carried out by the same UDA faction. “At some stage, it dawned on me precisely what we were up against – the fact that we weren’t dealing with an isolated case but a tactic that had broader implications,” Geraldine elaborates. “Apart from the personal quest for answers, this provided me with another reason to carry on.”
In the aftermath of the public enquiry’s approval, unionist lawmakers accused the British government of promoting a “tier system of victims”, with other families instead redirected to the newly-established Independent Commission for Reconciliation and Information Recovery (ICRIR) for investigation into crimes from the Troubles era. The Finucanes emphatically dismiss any ideas of bias in their circumstance; Benn highlighted its distinctive nature, tracing back to a commitment from the British government for an enquiry two decades ago.
“In a recent conversation, someone said, ‘my mother just yearns for an apology,’ Geraldine narrates. “Not everyone demands an enquiry; some seek verdicts and courtroom trials. No rational person would opt for an enquiry, considering it has consumed 35 years of our lives. Who would willingly subject themselves to such an ordeal?”
Her love for horses and gardening has been her equilibrium, especially during the Covid crisis. Despite her small stature, she exhibits physical strength whilst managing 20 horses in the stables every weekday. “When you depart, I’ll change into my equestrian attire and head for Ballyclare,” she concludes.
When Katherine was about 15, Sasha, a mare, was purchased. Subsequently, Otis, a foal, was taken from her. After rescuing Weeker, BB and Rosie were bought. Presently, only BB remains. In her younger years, she enjoyed horse riding but stopped recently, not having enough time to ride after tending to the stable. Her grandchildren used to join her when they were smaller.
She also has a passion for football and has journeyed to Britain to witness Crystal Palace matches. When her son John was around 10 or 11, she took him to watch Manchester United play, seizing the opportunity as they were in a slump and tickets were readily available. That was also something his father would have done. The first couple of games they attended were against Crystal Palace. She stayed with an old schoolmate living in Manchester during this period. She may be traveling to view a West Ham match in January as her friends residing in London hold season tickets.
No schedule for the inquiry has been finalized, but she thinks that Benn is eager to expedite the process. Geraldine Finucane confessed that her sole desire was to uncover the truth, acknowledging the lengthy period it’s taken to reach this juncture. “Looking back at the journey to where we currently stand reveals so much…” she mused. As we were leaving, she offered a sincere, strong handshake, mentioned that they are prepared for the upcoming chapter.