Nine years ago Charles Bowden cleaned and loaded the gun used to murder Veronica Guerin. He later claimed he thought she was only going to be threatened or shot at, but not shot. That was after he had been arrested. Bowden didn’t pull the trigger. He just loaded the gun.
Today he lives abroad, protected by the Irish government under the Witness Protection Programme. Bowden, exposed as a “self-serving liar” during the John Gilligan trial, lives with his second wife Juliet in a house mortgaged by the State. Those he turned against are left behind, serving the remainder of their prison sentences.
His tracks have been covered meticulously. It is an offence for you or me to attempt to contact him or publish any details which may lead to disclosing his whereabouts.
He has been given employment equal to his qualifications and education. For Charles Bowden, life has been kind. He has been given a second chance. The Witness Protection Programme was initiated to protect those whose lives are believed to be in mortal danger due to the incriminating information they possess.
The witnesses are predominantly criminals who informed on their accomplices in court after striking a deal with the prosecution. A deal that suits both them and the State.
Occasionally, innocent bystanders who witness a crime enter into the programme and are asked to testify.
Witness protection was introduced to Ireland in November 1997, under the direction of the then Minister for Justice, John O’Donoghue. A worrying in-crease in the levels of gangland crime prompted the minister to declare that the programme be introduced “in recognition that Irish society is as amenable to the threat of organised crime as any other society.” However, an enigmatic air of mystery surrounds the Irish Witness Protection Programme.
Queries on the numbers who have sought protection since its introduction have been met with guarded silence from official sources. It’s sensitive information. The authorities don’t want to talk about it.
The Garda Annual Report reflects that the programme is costing the state in excess of €1 million per year. This is a massive increase on the diminutive sum of €152,000 which was allocated to witness protection in 1999. Wealthier times, greater criminals, greater witness demands.
Administered under the discretion and responsibility of the Garda Commissioner, currently Noel Conroy, the witness programme has suffered bitter criticism from the Court of Criminal Appeal.
“Undoubtedly the Witness Protection Programme was badly thought out and almost developed a life of its own,” said a spokesperson for the Court. “The system appears without structure, with witnesses increasing their demands when the time comes for testifying.”
Despite a request by the Labour Party spokesperson on Justice, Deputy Joe Costello, urging the government to establish a proper statutory basis for the programme in the aftermath of the Gilligan case, it remains “fluid” and disorganised in the eyes of the court.
An Garda Siochana launched a review of the system in 2003 which remains ongoing.
Charles Bowden wasn’t alone in turning on his criminal associates. His cellmates John Dunne and Russell Warren, with whom he shared isolated cells during their time in Arbour Hill Prison, also nibbled on the carrot dangled in front of them before being released and relocated.
Dunne worked as a shipping executive smuggling cannabis into Ireland for Gilligan while Warren was Gilligan’s bagman and former gang member. Together they gave evidence at the Special Criminal Court trial which lead to the conviction of fellow gang members involved in Veronica Guerin’s murder, including John Gilligan.
In Ireland and the United Kingdom, the governments operate the protection programmes on an informal basis. Elsewhere, such as in the USA and Canada, formal schemes are in operation.
The scheme is used only when absolutely necessary. The upheaval of a family is a complex procedure, in which new identities have to be created, often resulting in relocation to another country. However despite such measures witness protection is not infallible.
IRA supergrass Martin McGartland was moved to Tyneside in the early 1990s under the British protection programme. In 1999 his lifeless body was found with six bullets lodged in his stomach.
Father-of-three Alan Decabral was placed under the same programme after he witnessed a fatal stabbing in Kent. He was murdered after testifying against the killer in question, Kenneth Noye.
There are other questions, including those on the programme’s efficacy. Questions arise as to the credibility of the witness’s testament. Where criminals are rewarded for their betrayal of former accomplices, suspicion prevails that they will lie in return for lucrative reward.
“We look for witnesses to come forward and to give evidence in court. It is up to the judge to decide on their credibility,” said former Garda Commissioner Pat Byrne in respect to the Gilligan case.
Witness protection is not guaranteed protection. Bribery may result in information and information may lead to conviction.
But prison sentences can be long and hearts can remain bitter — with settling old scores the sweetest form of retribution.
Turncoats seldom become celebrities like the central character of Goodfellas, Henry Hill.
Martin Scorsese’s 1990 masterpiece concludes with Hill’s family taking the advice of an FBI agent and starting a new life under the US Witness Protection Programme.
His mind was made up when the agents played him recordings of former associates ordering his death.
The film depicts his life of violence and subsequent fall from grace, from tough-guy gangster to whistle-blowing stool pigeon.
Henry Hill was brought up in Brooklyn, New York, where he developed an early fascination with the mobsters that ran the neighbourhood.
He served ten years for savagely beating one of his debtors — a gambler. Unfortunately for Hill, the gambler’s sister was a typist with the FBI. Upon his release, he entered into the lucrative narcotics trade with close friend Jimmy “The Gent” Burke.
This was in grave defiance of Mafia supremo Paul Vario, who forbade any of his associates to peddle cocaine. Hill’s choices were restricted: spend his life on the run from Vario, go to prison or enter into the Witness Protection Programme.
He chose the latter.
Hill’s potential life of boredom on the programme was alleviated by the opportunity to work as a consultant to author Nicholas Pileggi during the writing of Wiseguy. The novel was the inspiration for Scorsese’s own Goodfellas.
In between his Hollywood nixers Hill testified against his former pals. Despite being protected from the many enemies he made from his testimonies, Hill decided that the Witness Protection Programme wasn’t for him.
“I am officially out of the Witness Protection Programme. It’s a great programme but for a person like me in the field of business that I’m in today, it’s a bit difficult. I do commend these people. They risk their lives for scumbags like me.”
Nowadays he’s a free man. He’s off the scheme and has become a successful author of books such as The Wiseguy Cookbook and Gangsters and Goodfellas.
Henry Hill has ascended to celebrity status. He travels extensively, appearing on television shows and bathes in the limelight, intriguing audiences with tales of his time as a ‘wiseguy’.
Not a bad deal for a ‘rat’ who’s lived a two-toned life.