'My mum had me on heroin when I was eight': How addiction is driving Cork City's crime problem

On a day spent in Cork District Court, the Irish Examiner heard stories of sadness, abject despair, hope... and the occasional comic relief

The woman before the court is just one of the many drug users who are seen on a daily basis in the city centre, and whose presence are behind claims the city's streets are 'grim', or 'no-go'.

 “I’ve been cutting myself since I was 10 years' old. My mum had me on heroin when I was eight. For a while I was doing well, very well.” 

The judge looks down sympathetically towards the distressed young woman wailing from the stand in Cork District Court.

It is not clear whether the defendant’s revelations are a hard-cold fact of life or coloured by drug-induced recall. Her trauma, nonetheless, is indisputable.

The public order offence, which is the reason she is in court today, is an increasingly common one coming before this court. The garda described her as intoxicated and “unable to stand unaided” on the day in question, “a danger to herself and to others”. 

She is just one of the many drug users who are seen on a daily basis in the city centre, and whose presence are behind claims the city's streets are "grim", or "no-go", according to the more vocal critics.

The defendant in question had been expected to present to gardaí for a scheduled arrest on foot of a bench warrant. The 25-year-old failed to show, however, explaining she had plans that morning to “buy a bag of heroin”. 

The woman’s pleas are barely coherent through her relentless howling. The atmosphere in Courtroom One feels heavy — under the weight of her obvious hopelessness.

“I’m staying in the Simon,” the defendant sobs. “This could happen easily. I have mental health problems.”

One city centre store owner quietly laments the relentless shoplifting and physical abuse endured over the years, asking: 'Where is the victim’s justice?'

Even after being escorted out the door, her howls are still audible. The judge requests arrangements be made for her to get the medical help she requires. It’s enough to leave even the most cynical in tears. 

However, those impacted by petty crimes like shoplifting and public order offences understandably feel differently.

One city centre store owner quietly laments the relentless shoplifting and physical abuse endured over the years, asking: “Where is the victim’s justice?” He tells me one of his most frequent offenders appealed their sentence on the day of his birthday. Regardless of the outcome, there are no winners.

A flash of recognition can be seen on the judge’s face, with almost every second defendant who enters Courtroom One.

Tempers flair on occasion, with loved ones insisting on recounting their side of the story. As if part of some underground theatre performance, one young woman challenges the judge with a litany of vitriolic grievances. Picture: Larry Cummins

If this were a soap opera, they would be recurring characters. 

Tempers flair on occasion, with loved ones insisting on recounting their side of the story. As if part of some underground theatre performance, one young woman challenges the judge with a litany of vitriolic grievances.

She charges towards the bench like a Russian tank.

“That’s not what happened at all judge.” Her verbal appeal is cut short by the judge, but as the crowd disperses for lunch, her rant continues.

What happens outside the courtroom doors is almost as colourful. Friends and family of defendants standing trial can prove a handful. Gardaí are unflappable in their efforts to keep the peace.

“I’ll burn your house down,” one man tells a member of An Garda Síochána. His menacing stride is cut short after he is denied access to the courtroom. The garda keeps his cool through it all.

Court resumes after lunch.

The public order offences get stranger, as do the weapons of choice. Who would have thought you could do that much damage with a wheelchair?

The case involves a man responsible for thousands of euro worth of damage to property at Mercy University Hospital.

While not a patient at the facility, the defendant has been living with a degenerative condition, leaving him unable to walk. His solicitor says his illness has worsened in severity and he is now not as mobile as on the night the incident occurred. 

He caused the criminal damage at a time when he was at the hospital for so-called social purposes. The judge asks what the defendant has “to say for himself”. His solicitor intervenes.

“He doesn’t communicate very well judge.”  

“I’m concerned about the nature of the criminal damage and that he did €1,000 worth of damage,” the judge says. “I’m concerned about that aspect because I don’t want him getting into any further trouble.” 

'I’ll burn your house down,' one man tells a member of An Garda Síochána. 

She ironically acknowledges causing €1,000 worth of damage while in a wheelchair is “fairly good going”. That said, she sees little point in sending him to prison when he is currently residing in a safe environment. The hostel where he lives is serving him well. If ill-behaved in the months ahead, however, he may have to swap it for a prison cell.

“I’m going to give him a sentence but I’m going to suspend it for a period,” she announces. “I’m giving him four months suspended for 12 months. He needs to be of good behaviour because this is a serious matter.

The defendant nods his head. His relief and that of his solicitor’s is palpable.

Next up is a much younger man who is found guilty of a public order offence. He is sentenced to two months, albeit suspended for two years, after being abusive to gardaí in Cork City. When asked if he would write a letter of apology to gardaí, his response is non-committal.

“I would consider it,” he tells the judge. His response sparks laughter from the gallery.

Equally non-committal is the prisoner appearing via video link who is contemplating whether he should plead guilty or not.

“What do you think?” he asks, addressing his solicitor.

The judge advises the pair to take a few moments to consult by phone.

Our accused has other ideas. When asked if he is pleading guilty he says: “I might as well while I’m here.” 

Cases go by like a fast-moving carousel of addiction and destruction. However among the despair, there is the occasional case of rehabilitation. Picture: Larry Cummins

His expression darkens when he considers the possibility of remaining in Cork Prison for Christmas. The judge tells him the one month imposed will not increase the sentence he is already serving. He had been arrested for causing disruption to passers-by on MacCurtain street, which he followed up with cries of “fuck you, you stupid bitch” to the arresting garda.

Next, a 38-year-old male appears via video link. He has 53 previous convictions, most notably for theft. His partner is being treated for cancer at Cork University Hospital. He plans to take on the role of her full-time carer after leaving prison. Only time will tell if he lives up to this noble promise.

Cases go by like a fast-moving carousel of addiction and destruction. However among the despair, there is the occasional case of rehabilitation.

Like the woman who developed an alcohol dependency while sleeping in her car. Thefts of alcohol, Lucozade, chocolates and groceries are among her alleged crimes. However, she is now believed to be working as a full-time care assistant.

Silence descends on the courtroom as the day comes to a close. One can’t help but root for the genuine cases. 

A solicitor finishing up for the day tells of how people's fates hang in the balance.

“Some will encounter predators and end up doing things out of fear or threats. Breaking away is with the best of intentions but achieving this is often extraordinarily difficult.” 

Our conversation is brief as he heads home to prepare for tomorrow’s judgment day.