My Life with Jim O'Sullivan: ‘Nothing could have prepared me for the Spike Island Prison riots’

Jim O’Sullivan, former assistant chief officer, Spike Island Prison, Cork describes the riot of August 31, 1985

Jim O’Sullivan standing in front of a large framed photograph of Spike Island, where he served as a prison officer during the riots. Pictures: Chani Anderson

It started off like any other night shift in Spike Island prison before the unthinkable happened and inmates escaped in their droves.

I was just months into the job, having been promoted to the role of assistant chief officer. The new challenge was one I embraced, after being transferred from Mountjoy.

However, nothing could have prepared me for the violent chaos of August 31, 1985. With just seven prison officers rostered and 112 inmates, any possibility of containing the rioters seemed unlikely.

There was a stillness in the air before it all kicked off, but something felt different. Nobody detected any sight or sound of unrest with the exception of a disturbance in Block A. 

A letter box-sized slit offered a limited glimpse into the dormitory in question. Prisoners had smashed a light in our absence. They were just fluorescent tubes on strings, but the vandalism must have been carried out with a weapon. This might have been something as simple as a brush that a prisoner used for sweeping and never gave back. I left to lock the main gate.

Jim O’Sullivan: It was obvious they were winging it. Picture: Chani Anderson

On my return, I was struck by sudden darting movements. Prisoners were starting to kick open the doors. These weren’t your typical secure units. The shed doors with shooting bolts required little effort to undermine. Five broke out first and the rest of them followed. 

I made a phone call to the deputy governor to inform him about what was happening. We also got the staff up from their quarters. Some 40 prisoners didn’t want any involvement in the riots and staunchly decided to stay put. We advised them to relocate to another part of the building where they would be safe from harm. It was an offer from three brothers that took us most by surprise.

“I want you to know Mr O’Sullivan that we don’t want any part in this,” one of them told me. His expression was one of humble conviction.

“We’re going to fight with you.”

Unfortunately, I had to decline their generous proposal. Having them fight with us wouldn’t have been right.

“I’ll tell ye what ye can do,” I replied. “Will you keep an eye on the prisoners heading over to the other building? I need you to go over and mind them for me.”

Jim O’Sullivan: There was a stillness in the air before it all kicked off, but something felt different. Picture: Chani Anderson

They kept their promise and I’ll always be grateful for that. I never found out much about the nature of their crimes. If memory serves me correctly, it had something to do with them holding down a man on the street. 

All I know is that these young men had never been in prison before and they never came back. They were model prisoners and couldn’t do enough work. This was in contrast to the rioters who were now celebrating their newfound freedom by starting a fire in the building.

We desperately tried to extinguish the flames with a portable pump from a trolley. Our efforts, of course, did not go unchallenged. Escapees exploited everything at their disposal to attack us. They hadn’t a whole pile of stuff at that stage, namely the metal legs of chairs and brush handles.

Notwithstanding, their sheer numbers were no match for us and we were left with little choice but to abandon our mission.

Jim O’Sullivan: Some 40 prisoners didn’t want any involvement in the riots and staunchly decided to stay put. Picture Chani Anderson

It wouldn’t be long before Block A was no more, but miraculously everyone made it out of there unscathed. Meanwhile, the rioters were breaking into the trade stores where all the equipment was kept. They collected an array of tools from hammers to slash hooks. We were fortunate because all they did was scale the walls leaving the jail in peace and quiet.

They were outside and we were inside another part of the prison, going nowhere. If the riot was planned they could have taken hostages on to a boat, but it was obvious they were winging it too.

Once out on the island, they realised there was very little to occupy them. There was also no means of a safe passage across, leaving them with just one option. In an ironic twist, they were now trying to break back into the prison. 

One of inmates hotwired a JCB that had been left on the island overnight by the OPW. There was no way we were letting them back in to do more damage so we barricaded the gate. They eventually re-entered through the visitors’ box.

Jim O’Sullivan revisits the statement of evidence he wrote in the aftermath of the Spike Island prison riots, reflecting on the chaos and challenges faced by officers at the time. Picture: Chani Anderson

The riots continued for hours before finally drawing to a close on the roof of the Mitchel Hall late the following afternoon. Adrenaline gave way to discomfort and hunger. The prisoners finally — albeit reluctantly — surrendered. 

Farcical stories about the riots continue to this day. But one of the most outrageous ones of all is the famous tale about the Spike Island mammies.

Rumour had it that special reinforcements — the prisoners’ mothers — had been called in a last ditch attempt to talk them down off the roof. I can categorically say that this never happened.

On the contrary, nobody was left over at that point. The man who organised the boats coming over, was given a directive to ensure that nobody from the public made it across. As a matter of fact, he famously refused the late Charlie Haughey access. You may even say he also took no prisoners.