Stardust inquest: Victim could only be identified by his watch
Antoinette Keegan who had two sisters die in the Stardust fire holding posters and candles with other people associated with the Stardust disaster meeting in the Garden of Remembrance before going to the first day of the Stardust inquest. Photo: Sasko Lazarov/RollingNews.ie
The Stardust inquest has heard how 26-year-old Michael Farrell, described by his sister as “the heart of our family”, could only be identified by his watch in the days following the tragedy.
"All of those young, beautiful smiling people suspended in time for decades. Waiting for validation and answers. For justice and accountability. We want our loved ones to rest in peace with dignity. They all deserve that,” Michael's niece Angela Shepard, also told the Dublin District Coroner's Court inquest on Friday.
Michael had attended the Valentine’s disco in the Stardust with his girlfriend of five years, Thelma Frazer, who also died in the fire.
In a pen portrait of Michael written by his sister Monica D’Arcy before her recent death, she described how in the aftermath of the fire: “We searched for days and eventually went back to the mortuary where I was taken into a room and shown a watch which I knew to be Michael’s. My beautiful brother, my best friend, the heart of our family identified by a watch.”
The portrait was read to the inquest today by her daughter, Lynn D’Arcy. Monica said on the night of the Stardust fire, their younger brother Pat was taking part in a dance competition and Michael and Thelma went along to support him. She said she was also supposed to go but couldn’t get a babysitter.
She told how, before he went to the disco, Michael had asked her to get a Valentine’s card for him to give to Thelma and said the man behind the shop counter had teased her because the card had the word girlfriend on it.
She said their brother Pat stayed at the Stardust into the early hours of the morning searching for Michael and Thelma before finally making the journey home to tell their parents what had happened.
Monica said Michael loved “music, Bruce Lee and dancing”. He was also an avid pitch and putt player, winning lots of trophies which he displayed with great pride. Michael adored his family and was very close to all of them, she said, especially their Mam. He would do anything for her and was “a brilliant son”.
Michael started his first job at the age of 14 as a helper on the trucks with Allied bottlers and before long he was driving his own truck, which he loved. He was always very dapper and would often spend his wages on a new jacket or shirt or a bottle of his favourite aftershave, Old Spice.
Michael was “quietly confident” and “loyal” and was a popular person who loved to socialise. Monica told how her brother was seeing a “beautiful girl” called Thelma Frazer who was also killed in the Stardust fire. She said Michael would always tell his family how much he loved Thelma and that he was going to marry her.
“He would say she was his soulmate. I hope Thelma knew this. I hope she knew how much she meant to Michael.” Monica said she married very young, at 19, and Michael would call around to her house all the time. He was her best friend, she said. Her children all loved their uncle Michael and he loved them dearly in return.
She described how Michael and Thelma would often bring the children out for the day, taking them to Dublin Airport to look at the planes or on a trip to the countryside. “He was great with the children and had great time for them,” Monica said. “He would have made a great father himself.”
Michael was a great thinker and would often write his thoughts down in his diaries, which the family still have. “We now know the importance of those words; his writing and memories of him are all we have left,” she said.
On the night of the Stardust tragedy, Monica said her mother came straight over to tell her there had been a fire and Michael was not home yet. She said her mother was extremely upset that Michael may have been injured and taken to hospital.
“Over the coming days myself, my husband, my brothers William and Pat and friends searched everywhere we thought Michael could be. My parents thought he could be in shock wandering aimlessly about, they hoped.” She said as the days rolled on and there was still no word and they were left “terrified, anxious, broken”.
The family eventually went back to the mortuary where she was shown a watch which she knew to be Michael’s, confirming the family’s worst fears. Monica said it was another few days before Michael was formally identified by dental records.
She said the events of that night “destroyed” their family, knowing that their wonderful son, brother and kind-hearted, loveable uncle was gone. “Ripped from a safe place. Michael was never coming home. We never got to see Michael or to say goodbye to him. They say time is a healer but for our family it’s not. This is still very real for us. Still Very raw. We will never ever get over losing Michael.”
Another of Michael’s nieces, Monica’s daughter Angela Shepard, also addressed the inquest. “I’d like to ask you just for a moment, imagine you never went home. What would your family’s reaction be?” she said. “If they never saw you again, never spoke to you again, never held or hugged you again. What answers would you expect your family to get? What do you think your family would say?”
Pointing to the collage in the Pillar Room of the 48 young people who died, Angela said: “All of those young, beautiful smiling people suspended in time for decades. Waiting for validation and answers. For justice and accountability. We want our loved ones to rest in peace with dignity. They all deserve that.”
In a separate portrait, Ciaran David Flood described his uncle, David (Dave) Flood as “a bit of a rocker” who was “mad into the Rolling Stones”. He said this was reflected in Dave’s love for playing the guitar, his sense of style and the “Jagger swagger” that he had about him.
In a pen portrait delivered on behalf of Dave’s late parents, Paddy and Bernie, his brother Pat and the wider extended family, Ciaran said his uncle was a typical 18-year-old who was good humoured and sociable and loved dancing and going to the disco.
He enjoyed going out for a drink and a game of darts, which he often played with his brother, his nephew said. Dave worked in O’Neills shoes on Talbot Street, he loved his job and never missed a day of work, often joking that if he came in to some money he’d open his own shoe shop.
Ciaran said at the time of the Stardust fire, Dave was in a relationship and had “all of life’s possibilities ahead of him”. He had a few drinks with his friends before heading out. “My Nanny always said she remembered him saying goodbye as he left.”
Ciaran said his parents were also supposed to go to the Stardust that night but were fortunate enough to have “a bit of a falling out” that evening with the result that they didn’t go to the dance. When the phone call came with word that the Stardust was on fire, “panic quickly set in”, he said, and his grandfather and father went looking for Dave.
He said his grandfather, father and a neighbour went to the morgue. His relatives were so overcome with grief, Ciaran said, that the burden of identifying Dave’s body fell to their neighbour.
“The trauma of Dave’s death left an imprint on his family and those close to him. My Nanny and my Grandda lost their youngest son, My Da lost his only brother,” he said. “It also robbed Dave of the chance to go on to have his own family and experience of being a father. The devastating way in which Dave had died still has an enormous impact on his family.”
He said in the years following the fire, Dave’s memory was never far from their minds and every year on his anniversary the family went to his graveside and listened to stories about his uncle. "I inherited Dave’s records and when I listen to them, I wish I’d gotten to know my uncle before his life was cut short. May he rest in peace,” Ciaran concluded.
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