Donaldson was living in virtual squalor at a near-derelict cottage

DENIS DONALDSON thought he had escaped his past when he set up home in an isolated cottage in rural Donegal.

But when a senior Irish republican admits spying for the British, things usually end tragically.

Mr Donaldson knew he would face a life on the run, hiding from angry republicans, when he admitted betraying his comrades, but only his nightmares could have foretold his grisly fate.

The former Sinn Féin head at Stormont was living in virtual squalor at a near-derelict cottage without electricity or running water in the days before his death - far away from his comfortable terraced home in republican west Belfast, which has remained empty since he fled in December.

The Democratic Unionist Party’s Ian Paisley Jr had asked at the time whether Mr Donaldson’s admission was a death sentence, and four months later, it appears that it was.

Mr Donaldson, 56, was the Sinn Féin head of administration at the Northern Ireland Assembly when he was arrested in 2002 and charged with having documents likely to be of use to terrorists.

His republican credentials appeared beyond reproach.

Born in the staunch republican enclave of Short Strand in mainly-loyalist east Belfast in 1950, his commitment to armed struggle and a prison sentence in the early 1970s with hunger striker Bobby Sands prepared Mr Donaldson for key, trusted positions under the leadership of Gerry Adams.

A small man in stature at five foot tall, his easy charm allowed him to stand out, especially with women.

His arrest, along with that of his son-in-law and a civil servant, became known as Stormontgate - a republican spy ring at the heart of government.

It caused the collapse of the devolved power-sharing administration and suspension of the Assembly.

More than three years later, the British and Irish governments were set to unveil their blueprint on the way forward this Thursday, but those plans, or at least their hopes for success, received a heavy blow as news of Mr Donaldson’s horrific death emerged.

Even hardened political commentators admitted to being stunned when Mr Donaldson, known as a quiet, unassuming gentleman around Stormont, was outed as a British spy.

Far from being a republican spying on the Government, he was a British agent working at the heart of Sinn Féin.

Mr Donaldson claimed he had been turned in a moment of weakness and rumours circulated that he was caught in bed with another woman or stealing.

The announcement sent shockwaves through the republican movement.

Mr Donaldson was a key aide to Gerry Adams and linchpin of Sinn Féin’s political operation, privy to secrets and plans, and it was he who ensured the smooth running of the party’s Stormont machine.

He was arrested after police raided Sinn Féin’s offices at Stormont as part of an investigation into republican intelligence gathering on October 2002.

Two days later, he appeared in court on five charges and 10 days after the raid, devolution collapsed.

A later court hearing was told the Director of Public Prosecutions was not proceeding with the case against him. No reason was given.

The day after the charges were dropped, Mr Donaldson sat in a press conference - back at Stormont - flanked by Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.

He insisted the spy-ring charges he had faced were “politically inspired”. And he said: “There was no spy ring at Stormont. There never was.”

His next television appearance was very different.

He sat alone, admitting his betrayal of his comrades of more than 30 years - an admission that would eventually lead to his death.