IRA spy takes aim at TIFF
by: Etan Vlessing
Aug 22, 2008
The intended hero of Kari Skogland's upcoming feature Fifty Dead Men Walking aims to stop the film in its tracks.
The Canada/U.K. copro is scheduled to receive a Toronto International Film Festival gala world premiere on Sept. 10 at Roy Thomson Hall, with Skogland and lead actors Ben Kingsley, Jim Sturgess and Rose McGowan walking down the red carpet.
But former IRA mole Martin McGartland, whose 1998 autobiography of the same name inspired Skogland's terrorism drama, is on a mission to disrupt the TIFF bow.
"I have refused categorically to be associated, connected or related to the film. More than that, because I am the author of the book, and the subject of the film, which I have seen, I don't recognize the film," McGartland said from an undisclosed location on Britain's mainland, where he has lived on the run from the IRA since he was exposed as a plant for Britain's Special Branch in 1991.
"I, and also my solicitors, have made it very clear to all parties involved that I am reserving all my legal rights and remedies in this matter," he added.
His threat followed the Friday cancellation of a Toronto press screening of the film. TVA Films, the title's Canadian distributor, cited a "print problem," and provided no future press screening date.
As a measure of the sensitivity surrounding the movie, the distributor earlier advised that only Canadian media were to attend the Aug. 22 screening, and only capsule reviews be written.
Undeterred by threats of a cease-and-desist order to be taken out against him by the producers, McGartland insists his moral rights have been infringed upon because Skogland includes fictional scenes in her movie that, he argues, will lead people to conclude he was present during instances of torture and murder.
"It's like a bad dream. When they bought the rights for the book, they must have read it, and then they turn it upside down in the film, and I, who lived it every day, don't understand it," says McGartland, who saw the film at a private London screening in May.
The former British spy, who has absorbed bullets and attacks to stay ahead of his IRA pursuers, says his book isn't about murder and torture, but saving lives.
He takes particular exception to a fictionalized scene in which he drives an IRA bomb specialist to a location where a device is planted and later explodes, killing a British officer.
Future Films' Stephen Margolis, the film's British producer, wrote in an Aug. 13 letter to McGartland that the bomb-planting scene has been "amended" to indicate the character Marty does not know the explosive expert in his car, nor his intention.
McGartland also takes issue with another fictionalized scene in which Marty is in a room where an IRA informant is tortured and shot. Margolis in his letter concedes that the original book on which the film is based "does not make reference to you actually being present at a torture by the IRA of a suspected British informer."
At the same time, Margolis argues he cannot see how that scene could harm McGartland's honor or reputation, as he is portrayed as working for the Special Branch, and that "Marty's behavior and expressions" during the scene betray that he does not want to be in the room.
Brightlight Pictures' coproducer Shawn Williamson says that beyond a legal disclaimer attached to the film, he's not certain how McGartland can be placated.
"He gave us notes," Williamson says. "We are listening to him."
Since learning of the TIFF world premiere, McGartland has grown increasingly combative, as he maintains that the film's producers have kept him in the dark about the movie's rollout and have not shown him edits or a voice-over recently added to the movie's beginning.
Skogland had little to add about the controversy swirling around the TIFF launch, as the matter could yet tip into the courts.
"I had to make some fictionalizations of aspects of the story," says Skogland.
Behind the scenes, however, the film's producers have made hurried edits and alterations in an as-yet elusive attempt to appease the film's main subject.
At the same time, the producers take exception with McGartland's contention that Skogland touts her movie as a true story, when it contains fictionalized scenes that leave audiences potentially unable to distinguish fantasy from reality.
They further insist they had no control over a TIFF press release that refers to Skogland "exploring the true story of a young man forced to infiltrate the Irish Republican Army".
"This statement does not expressly or impliedly assert that the film itself is a true story," Margolis argues.
He adds that the movie now contains an opening statement that indicates Fifty Dead Men Walking is "inspired" by McGartland's book and "that some scenes, events and characters have been changed."
TIFF representatives were not available for comment on the potential legal entanglement surrounding the upcoming Fifty Dead Men Walking gala.
Meanwhile, McGartland is talking about possibly attending the film's gala premiere at TIFF, and coming out of hiding to hold a press conference to defend his side of the story.
Link; http://www.playbackonline.ca/articles/daily/20080822/mcgartland.html?word=canada
Friday, August 22, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Martin McGartland says; "Kari Skogland film, Fifty Dead Men Walking, is 99% fiction. It's as Near to The Truth as Earth is To Pluto."
Martin McGartland asks; ‘If a film is loosely based on someone’s life story, how does the audience know what’s true and what’s fiction?’
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' really based on truth? MARTY McGARTLAND SAY; "NO IT IS NOT. ITS AS NEAR TO THE TRUTH AS EARTH IS TO PLUTO."
Last week saw the release of the film ‘Fifty Dead Men Walking’, a thriller adapted from the book of the same name by Martin McGartland, a working class Belfast boy who became both a respected member of the IRA and an informer for the British secret service. McGartland has been living in hiding for the past two decades, during which time he has been tracked down and shot twice. So it came as something of a surprise when he contacted the Time Out offices to discuss his reactions to the film which, he asserts, crucially misrepresents some episodes from his life story.
‘The best way I can explain it in basic, blunt terms, is it’s as near to the truth as Earth is to Pluto,’ McGartland insists. ‘If a film is loosely based on someone’s life story, how does the audience know what’s true and what’s fiction?’
McGartland cites various specific incidences where the film strays from his version of the truth. ‘I have never drank in my life, I have never smoked in my life and (actor) Jim Sturgess is in pubs getting pissed all the time and smoking cigarettes. All the stuff about me getting shot in Canada, I’ve never been to Canada in my life except for a brief holiday. I never lived there. And I certainly was not present when a suspected informer was interrogated and murdered. That made me so angry.’
But for McGartland, this isn’t just a case of creative licence. ‘Not only is there sympathy for the Republican movement (in the film), but the director, Kari Skogland, has done some kind of deal with the IRA whereby she has allowed them to be consultants and also, this is on record too, they’ve actually been on set when the film was being made, which is unheard of. How can you make a film about the IRA when they’re standing watching over your shoulder?’
Director Skogland angrily refutes McGartland’s claims, though she admits she did consult ex-IRA members when researching the film, and accepts that ex-Republicans were on set during shooting. ‘But so were the army!’ she argues. ‘They were there at the same time. Everyone was getting along, it was really very important, the army was there, the RUC was there, everyone wanted me to get it right, to have a very authentic view. While I would not want to suggest the IRA had any influence on the film because they didn’t, I certainly had to go to people to make sure that if I’m portraying them I’m not portraying them from some Hollywood, ill-conceived, stereotypical perspective.’
She also asserts that she offered McGartland an advisory role on the film and held numerous conversations with him during shooting. ‘I spent hours talking to him, and recognised that he had quite a distinct agenda. I felt because he had such a passionate perspective, his intention would have been to make it a political document, that was not the intention of the movie. This was not an agenda-oriented film. I listened and I was very respectful but at the same time I couldn’t let his voice change the dynamic of the picture that I knew was a truthful story of what it is to be an informer.’
Whatever the respective merits of their conflicting views, the incident highlights the responsibility filmmakers bear when telling real-life stories, particularly when their subjects are alive and eager to speak out. McGartland is concerned that the film will now be the only way people remember his contribution to what he views as a righteous cause.
‘I’ve been kidnapped by the IRA, jumped out a window to save my own life. I’ve been through the mill and back again and I accept all those consequences as a result of what I do… I didn’t want any control over the film, I just wanted them to do it in a fair way.’
Author: Tom Huddleston
Link;- http://www.timeout.com/film/features/show-feature/7273/is-fifty-dead-men-walking-really-based-on-truth.html
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' really based on truth? MARTY McGARTLAND SAY; "NO IT IS NOT. ITS AS NEAR TO THE TRUTH AS EARTH IS TO PLUTO."
Last week saw the release of the film ‘Fifty Dead Men Walking’, a thriller adapted from the book of the same name by Martin McGartland, a working class Belfast boy who became both a respected member of the IRA and an informer for the British secret service. McGartland has been living in hiding for the past two decades, during which time he has been tracked down and shot twice. So it came as something of a surprise when he contacted the Time Out offices to discuss his reactions to the film which, he asserts, crucially misrepresents some episodes from his life story.
‘The best way I can explain it in basic, blunt terms, is it’s as near to the truth as Earth is to Pluto,’ McGartland insists. ‘If a film is loosely based on someone’s life story, how does the audience know what’s true and what’s fiction?’
McGartland cites various specific incidences where the film strays from his version of the truth. ‘I have never drank in my life, I have never smoked in my life and (actor) Jim Sturgess is in pubs getting pissed all the time and smoking cigarettes. All the stuff about me getting shot in Canada, I’ve never been to Canada in my life except for a brief holiday. I never lived there. And I certainly was not present when a suspected informer was interrogated and murdered. That made me so angry.’
But for McGartland, this isn’t just a case of creative licence. ‘Not only is there sympathy for the Republican movement (in the film), but the director, Kari Skogland, has done some kind of deal with the IRA whereby she has allowed them to be consultants and also, this is on record too, they’ve actually been on set when the film was being made, which is unheard of. How can you make a film about the IRA when they’re standing watching over your shoulder?’
Director Skogland angrily refutes McGartland’s claims, though she admits she did consult ex-IRA members when researching the film, and accepts that ex-Republicans were on set during shooting. ‘But so were the army!’ she argues. ‘They were there at the same time. Everyone was getting along, it was really very important, the army was there, the RUC was there, everyone wanted me to get it right, to have a very authentic view. While I would not want to suggest the IRA had any influence on the film because they didn’t, I certainly had to go to people to make sure that if I’m portraying them I’m not portraying them from some Hollywood, ill-conceived, stereotypical perspective.’
She also asserts that she offered McGartland an advisory role on the film and held numerous conversations with him during shooting. ‘I spent hours talking to him, and recognised that he had quite a distinct agenda. I felt because he had such a passionate perspective, his intention would have been to make it a political document, that was not the intention of the movie. This was not an agenda-oriented film. I listened and I was very respectful but at the same time I couldn’t let his voice change the dynamic of the picture that I knew was a truthful story of what it is to be an informer.’
Whatever the respective merits of their conflicting views, the incident highlights the responsibility filmmakers bear when telling real-life stories, particularly when their subjects are alive and eager to speak out. McGartland is concerned that the film will now be the only way people remember his contribution to what he views as a righteous cause.
‘I’ve been kidnapped by the IRA, jumped out a window to save my own life. I’ve been through the mill and back again and I accept all those consequences as a result of what I do… I didn’t want any control over the film, I just wanted them to do it in a fair way.’
Author: Tom Huddleston
Link;- http://www.timeout.com/film/features/show-feature/7273/is-fifty-dead-men-walking-really-based-on-truth.html
Sunday, June 1, 2008
One thousand nine hundred -1,900 locals sign Martin McGartland petion - Northumbria Police MI5 Cover Up
How Jack Straw, vigilant censor of MI5 revelations, left an informer out to dry
John Ware
Monday, 29 September 1997
The Home Secretary was quick to censor the revelations of David Shayler to `ensure the lives' of MI5 agents. The safety of Martin McGartland, RUC informer, appears to have been of less concern. John Ware wants to know why
The Home Secretary, Jack Straw, says MI5 agents could die if the former MI5 officer David Shayler is allowed to disclose evidence which he claims demonstrates the incompetence of the Security Service.
Mr Straw says he has an "absolute duty to ensure agents' lives" are not put at risk. That is the basis on which he has successfully sought an injunction against The Mail on Sunday whose editor wants to publish "the facts of a case of national and international importance which would have revealed MI5's incompetence in the handling of a serious terrorist incident".
Mr Straw would have us believe that he'd agonised over so grave a step as censorship - "I have no wish to prevent legitimate debate or criticism of the Security Service" - no doubt mindful of his government's commitment to freedom of information.
"Censorship" is certainly a word that should rankle with Mr Straw. He was himself a journalist on Granada's World In Action programme. And in 1971, as a duffel-coated President of the National Union of Students, he petitioned the then Conservative Home Secretary, Reggie Maudling, against the expulsion of a German Marxist student leader Rudi Dutschke whose presence was said to be a threat to the security of the state. As Mr Shayler revealed, in those days M15 had Mr Straw down as a "communist sympathiser".
But that was then. Now as Home Secretary he is ultimately responsible for MI5. And if the MI5 Director General tells him the publication of a newspaper article could cost lives, he has to take that seriously - even if the risk is theoretical.
Why, then, in another case involving a real live agent, whose risk of being executed by the IRA is very high indeed, has the Home Secretary been playing down the threat to his life?
Martin McGartland spied for the RUC Special Branch and saved many lives. As the late Brian Fitsimons, former assistant chief constable in charge of the Special Branch, told me: "McGartland was a very productive agent."
Since 1991 the 27 year old has lived in Blyth, Northumbria as "Martin Ashe" - the identity provided for him by the RUC. Last May he was tried at Newcastle Crown Court for perverting the course of justice because he had two driving licences in the name of "Ashe" which listed two different addresses.
The police said he was trying to avoid disqualification by distributing penalty points for speeding between the two licences. McGartland denied his, insisting he needed the licences as an extra layer of protection.
In 1992 the IRA had interrogated his girlfriend and he feared they'd forced her to divulge where he was living. He says the police refused to move him: "I'll never forget what they told me:'Don't worry about it, son. You'll be OK.'" He didn't believe them. So he moved - though only half a mile away. And he took out a second licence with a fictitious address in Durham.
McGartland feared the IRA could get his address from licence records - and with good reason: Northumbria Police has already dismissed one civilian for disclosing information about his identity from their computer. The purpose of the second licence was to send the IRA off on a false trail if they came looking for him having discovered he no longer lived at his first address.
There is no doubt that McGartland was on the IRA's wanted listed. They'd broken his younger brother Joseph's legs, an arm and four ribs with iron bars. And he himself received a mass card, signed "Your friends in Connolly House [Belfast HQ of Sinn Fein], Crumlin Road and Long Kesh." It promised that the "Holy Sacrifice of the Mass will be offered for the repose of the soul of Marty McGartland."
Before the trial McGartland warned the Crown Prosecution Service that the only way he could escape a prison sentence was to explain to the jury who he really was and why he'd taken out two licences - which involved disclosing who he really was.
The jury took 10 minutes to acquit him and even the judge said McGartland did not seem to be a criminal. But his cover was blown McGartland's real identity and address were reported in the newspapers.
McGartland asked the authorities to give him a new identity and relocate him immediately. One thousand nine hundred local residents - astonished to discover their chaotic Irish neighbour was a latter-day 007 - signed a petition supporting him. Close neighbours have been frequently wakened by his screaming nightmares: "Don't do it, don't do it." Some neighbours are pretty terrified themselves. One is having her locks changed by Northumbria Police.
At first the Crown refused to pay McGartland a penny. After many letters from his lawyer to the solicitors acting for "various Crown authorities" - which they refused to name - they agreed to pay pounds 3,000 towards his removal expenses "as a gesture of goodwill and with no admission of liability".
But McGartland's house is now blighted. Who would want to buy a property that was an IRA target? Until recently, the "authorities" have refused to even consider covering any losses. Jack Straw has told McGartland's local MP, Alan Campbell, that there is no need for him to move straightaway because there is no "immediate" threat to him. "I hope this is of some reassurance," says Mr Straw.
The small sum now being offered contrasts with the millions of pounds that McGartland's tip-offs spared the taxpayer by stopping buildings from being blown up - not to mention the many lives he saved. McGartland was also very nearly executed by the IRA because of an RUC blunder in August 1991.
For several months he had complained to his Special Branch handlers that he feared the IRA had rumbled him. His active service unit had had to abort too many operations in which he'd been involved.
Then in July 1991, McGartland's handlers learnt that his ASU was going to machine-gun a bar frequented by soldiers in Bangor. They demanded that McGartland deliver the guns that were to be used to RUC headquarters to be fitted with tracking devices.
Two IRA operatives were arrested en route to the raid. A few days later McGartland was summoned to a meeting with the head of the IRA's internal security. Although McGartland feared the game was up, his handlers persuaded him to keep his appointment, promising they would watch over him every step of the way. The Special Branch had calculated there could be a bonus if he was caught. He could lead them to other IRA terrorists as they interrogated him. He was to be used as human bait.
But the RUC's surveillance unit lost sight of McGartland before he was driven away at speed by two IRA men from his meeting. As one officer said: "I thought `Well, it's over. He's gone.' And I waited for news of his body being found."
McGartland, meanwhile, was awaiting the executioner's bullet in a third- floor flat. When he saw a bath filled up with cold water, he knew he would be tortured first. On an impulse he hurled himself headlong through the window. "I remember the glass breaking in slow motion. Then my lights went out." He sustained serious head, shoulder and back injuries, but his astonishing courage saved him. He was picked up by an army patrol.
Six weeks later he was packed off to Northumbria with a new identity. The police bought him a house for pounds 53,500 and gave him pounds 40,000 to provide him with furniture, a car, spending money and a training course for a heavy goods vehicle licence.
But McGartland had paid a heavy price. He'd left behind his family and had no friends in Newcastle. He suffered recurring nightmares, needed constant painkillers, and he became depressed. He couldn't settle into a job and he frittered away his money But the RUC who'd recruited him at 17, had cut the umbilical chord.
Like many agents McGartland wanted recognition. He tried to sell his story and began to appear on TV programmes and to give newspaper interviews. This can't have gone down too well with the authorities.
When his solicitor applied for compensation for his injuries, the RUC claimed to have no record of him. He pursued the claim in the courts. But when he asked the RUC for protection in Northern Ireland so he could attend his court case, they refused. "Any protection that was afforded you, you blew by your antics," one officer told him.
Then the RUC told the Northern Ireland Office they'd already paid McGartland pounds 120,000 which, they said, included injury compensation. His receipts showed the figure was pounds 95,000, a shortfall of pounds 25,000. Only after Tory, Labour and Unionist MPs intervened, did the NIO compromise with an offer of pounds 10,000.
Earlier this year, McGartland published a book detailing his exploits. At the same time the CPS was considering whether to prosecute him for perverting the course of justice. After consulting the RUC, it was decided there was no threat to his security. Listening to some RUC officer discussing this issue, there's a strong whiff of disdain: McGartland was recruited as a teenage petty criminal and in his attempts to hog the limelight he'd moved above his station. It's hardly surprising he came a cropper.
No doubt, running McGartland as an agent was taxing. Like most agents, he sometimes broke the rules by not telling his handlers everything in order to cover his back with the IRA. Sometimes he bartered information for money. But, as one ex-RUC officer recognises, "I would have to say that we got more out of him in a few years than we got out of many agents in 20 years. It was short - but very sweet while it lasted."
McGartland was very young to be drawn into the grown-up world of spying. By 21, he had saved many lives. But now he doesn't know how to save himself. His obsession with his string of grievances and his craving for recognition leave him incapable of building a more stable future. What burden of responsibility should the Crown now bear for trying to ensue that the rest of his life is not wasted?
Not much, seems to be the answer. As the new Home Secretary, perhaps still seeking the approval of the security and intelligence establishment that once had him down as soft and on the left, Jack speaks of this as being "very much a security matter". But it is also a human tragedy.
In his letter to McGartland's MP, Alan Campbell, Jack Straw suggests that it is his "propensity for self-publicity that has caused [him] so many of the problems he currently faces".
Mr Straw misses the point. McGartland may have raised his profile but he never once revealed that he was "Martin Ashe" in any article or TV programme. It was the Crown's decision to prosecute him that led to that. Now that he has been acquitted, he claims he is entitled to the same level of assistance a he was before the court case invalidated his protection.
The McGartland case also raises a question about double standards: in Newcastle an ex-Special Branch agent whose life is manifestly at risk is deemed by the Home Secretary not to be in any "immediate" danger. In London, a risk, perhaps theoretical, to the lives of MI5 agents is enough for him to ban publication of a matter of public interest about a secret and largely unaccountable organisation.
The one feature common to both cases is publicity. Do the intelligence services still cling to the belief that it is dangerous for light to be shed on their workings. If so, why does New Labour swallow old myths?
The story of Martin McGartland will feature in `Here and Now' , BBC1, 7.30pm tonight.
Link:- http://www.independent.co.uk/news/media/media-how-jack-straw-vigilant-censor-of-mi5-revelations-left-an-informer-out-to-dry-1241822.html
John Ware
Monday, 29 September 1997
The Home Secretary was quick to censor the revelations of David Shayler to `ensure the lives' of MI5 agents. The safety of Martin McGartland, RUC informer, appears to have been of less concern. John Ware wants to know why
The Home Secretary, Jack Straw, says MI5 agents could die if the former MI5 officer David Shayler is allowed to disclose evidence which he claims demonstrates the incompetence of the Security Service.
Mr Straw says he has an "absolute duty to ensure agents' lives" are not put at risk. That is the basis on which he has successfully sought an injunction against The Mail on Sunday whose editor wants to publish "the facts of a case of national and international importance which would have revealed MI5's incompetence in the handling of a serious terrorist incident".
Mr Straw would have us believe that he'd agonised over so grave a step as censorship - "I have no wish to prevent legitimate debate or criticism of the Security Service" - no doubt mindful of his government's commitment to freedom of information.
"Censorship" is certainly a word that should rankle with Mr Straw. He was himself a journalist on Granada's World In Action programme. And in 1971, as a duffel-coated President of the National Union of Students, he petitioned the then Conservative Home Secretary, Reggie Maudling, against the expulsion of a German Marxist student leader Rudi Dutschke whose presence was said to be a threat to the security of the state. As Mr Shayler revealed, in those days M15 had Mr Straw down as a "communist sympathiser".
But that was then. Now as Home Secretary he is ultimately responsible for MI5. And if the MI5 Director General tells him the publication of a newspaper article could cost lives, he has to take that seriously - even if the risk is theoretical.
Why, then, in another case involving a real live agent, whose risk of being executed by the IRA is very high indeed, has the Home Secretary been playing down the threat to his life?
Martin McGartland spied for the RUC Special Branch and saved many lives. As the late Brian Fitsimons, former assistant chief constable in charge of the Special Branch, told me: "McGartland was a very productive agent."
Since 1991 the 27 year old has lived in Blyth, Northumbria as "Martin Ashe" - the identity provided for him by the RUC. Last May he was tried at Newcastle Crown Court for perverting the course of justice because he had two driving licences in the name of "Ashe" which listed two different addresses.
The police said he was trying to avoid disqualification by distributing penalty points for speeding between the two licences. McGartland denied his, insisting he needed the licences as an extra layer of protection.
In 1992 the IRA had interrogated his girlfriend and he feared they'd forced her to divulge where he was living. He says the police refused to move him: "I'll never forget what they told me:'Don't worry about it, son. You'll be OK.'" He didn't believe them. So he moved - though only half a mile away. And he took out a second licence with a fictitious address in Durham.
McGartland feared the IRA could get his address from licence records - and with good reason: Northumbria Police has already dismissed one civilian for disclosing information about his identity from their computer. The purpose of the second licence was to send the IRA off on a false trail if they came looking for him having discovered he no longer lived at his first address.
There is no doubt that McGartland was on the IRA's wanted listed. They'd broken his younger brother Joseph's legs, an arm and four ribs with iron bars. And he himself received a mass card, signed "Your friends in Connolly House [Belfast HQ of Sinn Fein], Crumlin Road and Long Kesh." It promised that the "Holy Sacrifice of the Mass will be offered for the repose of the soul of Marty McGartland."
Before the trial McGartland warned the Crown Prosecution Service that the only way he could escape a prison sentence was to explain to the jury who he really was and why he'd taken out two licences - which involved disclosing who he really was.
The jury took 10 minutes to acquit him and even the judge said McGartland did not seem to be a criminal. But his cover was blown McGartland's real identity and address were reported in the newspapers.
McGartland asked the authorities to give him a new identity and relocate him immediately. One thousand nine hundred local residents - astonished to discover their chaotic Irish neighbour was a latter-day 007 - signed a petition supporting him. Close neighbours have been frequently wakened by his screaming nightmares: "Don't do it, don't do it." Some neighbours are pretty terrified themselves. One is having her locks changed by Northumbria Police.
At first the Crown refused to pay McGartland a penny. After many letters from his lawyer to the solicitors acting for "various Crown authorities" - which they refused to name - they agreed to pay pounds 3,000 towards his removal expenses "as a gesture of goodwill and with no admission of liability".
But McGartland's house is now blighted. Who would want to buy a property that was an IRA target? Until recently, the "authorities" have refused to even consider covering any losses. Jack Straw has told McGartland's local MP, Alan Campbell, that there is no need for him to move straightaway because there is no "immediate" threat to him. "I hope this is of some reassurance," says Mr Straw.
The small sum now being offered contrasts with the millions of pounds that McGartland's tip-offs spared the taxpayer by stopping buildings from being blown up - not to mention the many lives he saved. McGartland was also very nearly executed by the IRA because of an RUC blunder in August 1991.
For several months he had complained to his Special Branch handlers that he feared the IRA had rumbled him. His active service unit had had to abort too many operations in which he'd been involved.
Then in July 1991, McGartland's handlers learnt that his ASU was going to machine-gun a bar frequented by soldiers in Bangor. They demanded that McGartland deliver the guns that were to be used to RUC headquarters to be fitted with tracking devices.
Two IRA operatives were arrested en route to the raid. A few days later McGartland was summoned to a meeting with the head of the IRA's internal security. Although McGartland feared the game was up, his handlers persuaded him to keep his appointment, promising they would watch over him every step of the way. The Special Branch had calculated there could be a bonus if he was caught. He could lead them to other IRA terrorists as they interrogated him. He was to be used as human bait.
But the RUC's surveillance unit lost sight of McGartland before he was driven away at speed by two IRA men from his meeting. As one officer said: "I thought `Well, it's over. He's gone.' And I waited for news of his body being found."
McGartland, meanwhile, was awaiting the executioner's bullet in a third- floor flat. When he saw a bath filled up with cold water, he knew he would be tortured first. On an impulse he hurled himself headlong through the window. "I remember the glass breaking in slow motion. Then my lights went out." He sustained serious head, shoulder and back injuries, but his astonishing courage saved him. He was picked up by an army patrol.
Six weeks later he was packed off to Northumbria with a new identity. The police bought him a house for pounds 53,500 and gave him pounds 40,000 to provide him with furniture, a car, spending money and a training course for a heavy goods vehicle licence.
But McGartland had paid a heavy price. He'd left behind his family and had no friends in Newcastle. He suffered recurring nightmares, needed constant painkillers, and he became depressed. He couldn't settle into a job and he frittered away his money But the RUC who'd recruited him at 17, had cut the umbilical chord.
Like many agents McGartland wanted recognition. He tried to sell his story and began to appear on TV programmes and to give newspaper interviews. This can't have gone down too well with the authorities.
When his solicitor applied for compensation for his injuries, the RUC claimed to have no record of him. He pursued the claim in the courts. But when he asked the RUC for protection in Northern Ireland so he could attend his court case, they refused. "Any protection that was afforded you, you blew by your antics," one officer told him.
Then the RUC told the Northern Ireland Office they'd already paid McGartland pounds 120,000 which, they said, included injury compensation. His receipts showed the figure was pounds 95,000, a shortfall of pounds 25,000. Only after Tory, Labour and Unionist MPs intervened, did the NIO compromise with an offer of pounds 10,000.
Earlier this year, McGartland published a book detailing his exploits. At the same time the CPS was considering whether to prosecute him for perverting the course of justice. After consulting the RUC, it was decided there was no threat to his security. Listening to some RUC officer discussing this issue, there's a strong whiff of disdain: McGartland was recruited as a teenage petty criminal and in his attempts to hog the limelight he'd moved above his station. It's hardly surprising he came a cropper.
No doubt, running McGartland as an agent was taxing. Like most agents, he sometimes broke the rules by not telling his handlers everything in order to cover his back with the IRA. Sometimes he bartered information for money. But, as one ex-RUC officer recognises, "I would have to say that we got more out of him in a few years than we got out of many agents in 20 years. It was short - but very sweet while it lasted."
McGartland was very young to be drawn into the grown-up world of spying. By 21, he had saved many lives. But now he doesn't know how to save himself. His obsession with his string of grievances and his craving for recognition leave him incapable of building a more stable future. What burden of responsibility should the Crown now bear for trying to ensue that the rest of his life is not wasted?
Not much, seems to be the answer. As the new Home Secretary, perhaps still seeking the approval of the security and intelligence establishment that once had him down as soft and on the left, Jack speaks of this as being "very much a security matter". But it is also a human tragedy.
In his letter to McGartland's MP, Alan Campbell, Jack Straw suggests that it is his "propensity for self-publicity that has caused [him] so many of the problems he currently faces".
Mr Straw misses the point. McGartland may have raised his profile but he never once revealed that he was "Martin Ashe" in any article or TV programme. It was the Crown's decision to prosecute him that led to that. Now that he has been acquitted, he claims he is entitled to the same level of assistance a he was before the court case invalidated his protection.
The McGartland case also raises a question about double standards: in Newcastle an ex-Special Branch agent whose life is manifestly at risk is deemed by the Home Secretary not to be in any "immediate" danger. In London, a risk, perhaps theoretical, to the lives of MI5 agents is enough for him to ban publication of a matter of public interest about a secret and largely unaccountable organisation.
The one feature common to both cases is publicity. Do the intelligence services still cling to the belief that it is dangerous for light to be shed on their workings. If so, why does New Labour swallow old myths?
The story of Martin McGartland will feature in `Here and Now' , BBC1, 7.30pm tonight.
Link:- http://www.independent.co.uk/news/media/media-how-jack-straw-vigilant-censor-of-mi5-revelations-left-an-informer-out-to-dry-1241822.html
Friday, May 16, 2008
One of the most important agents to infiltrate the IRA has publicly distanced himself from a biopic of his life which is being marketed at this year's
Mole who infiltrated IRA attacks biopic
· Former agent McGartland says motives are distorted
· Two controversial films on Troubles debut at Cannes
Henry McDonald and Charlotte Higgins in Cannes
The Guardian, Friday 16 May 2008
One of the most important agents to infiltrate the IRA has publicly distanced himself from a biopic of his life which is being marketed at this year's Cannes film festival.
Fifty Dead Men Walking, starring Sir Ben Kingsley as the mole's Royal Ulster Constabulary handler, is based on the autobiographical book of the same name by Martin McGartland. As "agent Carol", McGartland undermined the IRA in Belfast during the later years of the Troubles, foiling dozens of murders and bombings.
The west Belfast man, who jumped through a bathroom window to escape his IRA interrogators after he was discovered, has told the Guardian the script "totally distorted" his story, and he plans to take legal action unless radical changes are made to the film before it is released.
A second controversial film based on the Troubles had its premiere at the festival yesterday. Steve McQueen's Hunger, which focuses on the death of Bobby Sands after 66 days without food, prompted both applause and walkouts as it opened the Un Certain Régard section.
McGartland, who had initially been delighted with the idea of turning his life into a film, said his principal objection was the way the script portrayed him as a disgruntled IRA member who breaks ranks to work as an RUC special branch agent for money. "That version of events is wholly untrue. I went into the IRA to infiltrate them. Prior to being recruited as a special branch agent I wasn't in the IRA, I wanted nothing to do with them, in truth I hated them."
He said his real motivation was revenge. "I did it because I saw my friends beaten up by the IRA," he said.
"The film company have told me this is only loosely based on my life but it's my life all the same. I was shot here in England by the IRA for what I did to the Belfast Brigade. My mother's house was attacked, my brother left for dead after a beating long after I was gone from Belfast and in hiding. They should have represented my story more accurately and fairly."
A spokesman for Future Films Limited, the company that co-financed Fifty Dead Men Walking, stressed that the movie was still in post-production and said McGartland had not seen it, so was not placed to make a final judgement.
He said McGartland may be shown the final cut before it is released. The film was shot last December in Northern Ireland.
The IRA unmasked McGartland as an informer in 1991 and came close to killing him after an interrogation at a flat in west Belfast. But the agent escaped by leaping out of a bathroom window on the third or fourth floor of a block of flats. In 1999 the IRA tracked McGartland down to a coastal town in north-east England and two men shot him six times, but failed to kill him.
Turner prize winner Steve McQueen's Hunger is a violent and disturbing vision of life in the Maze prison during the second hunger strike of 1981, and is Britain's most prominent entry at Cannes.
Though the film is even-handed, following the lives of both inmates and guards, it will doubtless stir bitter memories.
It shows the pain and physical deterioration of Sands as he lost liver, pancreas, kidney and heart functions and his emaciated body became covered in sores. Actor Michael Fassbender, who plays Sands, went from 73kg (11st 6lbs) to 57kg (9st) over two months under medical supervision.
"The film obviously stems from politics," said McQueen, "but it is about people in an extreme situation on either side, both prisoners and prison officers. I am interested in what happens to people in those kind of conditions. It is about the smell, the atmosphere, the texture of those events; about the things between the words in history books."
Though he started work on the film before the outbreak of the Iraq war, he said the contemporary parallels had become unavoidable. "It is history repeating itself, in a sense. The body as a weapon for people who are not being heard."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/may/16/cannesfilmfestival.northernireland
· Former agent McGartland says motives are distorted
· Two controversial films on Troubles debut at Cannes
Henry McDonald and Charlotte Higgins in Cannes
The Guardian, Friday 16 May 2008
One of the most important agents to infiltrate the IRA has publicly distanced himself from a biopic of his life which is being marketed at this year's Cannes film festival.
Fifty Dead Men Walking, starring Sir Ben Kingsley as the mole's Royal Ulster Constabulary handler, is based on the autobiographical book of the same name by Martin McGartland. As "agent Carol", McGartland undermined the IRA in Belfast during the later years of the Troubles, foiling dozens of murders and bombings.
The west Belfast man, who jumped through a bathroom window to escape his IRA interrogators after he was discovered, has told the Guardian the script "totally distorted" his story, and he plans to take legal action unless radical changes are made to the film before it is released.
A second controversial film based on the Troubles had its premiere at the festival yesterday. Steve McQueen's Hunger, which focuses on the death of Bobby Sands after 66 days without food, prompted both applause and walkouts as it opened the Un Certain Régard section.
McGartland, who had initially been delighted with the idea of turning his life into a film, said his principal objection was the way the script portrayed him as a disgruntled IRA member who breaks ranks to work as an RUC special branch agent for money. "That version of events is wholly untrue. I went into the IRA to infiltrate them. Prior to being recruited as a special branch agent I wasn't in the IRA, I wanted nothing to do with them, in truth I hated them."
He said his real motivation was revenge. "I did it because I saw my friends beaten up by the IRA," he said.
"The film company have told me this is only loosely based on my life but it's my life all the same. I was shot here in England by the IRA for what I did to the Belfast Brigade. My mother's house was attacked, my brother left for dead after a beating long after I was gone from Belfast and in hiding. They should have represented my story more accurately and fairly."
A spokesman for Future Films Limited, the company that co-financed Fifty Dead Men Walking, stressed that the movie was still in post-production and said McGartland had not seen it, so was not placed to make a final judgement.
He said McGartland may be shown the final cut before it is released. The film was shot last December in Northern Ireland.
The IRA unmasked McGartland as an informer in 1991 and came close to killing him after an interrogation at a flat in west Belfast. But the agent escaped by leaping out of a bathroom window on the third or fourth floor of a block of flats. In 1999 the IRA tracked McGartland down to a coastal town in north-east England and two men shot him six times, but failed to kill him.
Turner prize winner Steve McQueen's Hunger is a violent and disturbing vision of life in the Maze prison during the second hunger strike of 1981, and is Britain's most prominent entry at Cannes.
Though the film is even-handed, following the lives of both inmates and guards, it will doubtless stir bitter memories.
It shows the pain and physical deterioration of Sands as he lost liver, pancreas, kidney and heart functions and his emaciated body became covered in sores. Actor Michael Fassbender, who plays Sands, went from 73kg (11st 6lbs) to 57kg (9st) over two months under medical supervision.
"The film obviously stems from politics," said McQueen, "but it is about people in an extreme situation on either side, both prisoners and prison officers. I am interested in what happens to people in those kind of conditions. It is about the smell, the atmosphere, the texture of those events; about the things between the words in history books."
Though he started work on the film before the outbreak of the Iraq war, he said the contemporary parallels had become unavoidable. "It is history repeating itself, in a sense. The body as a weapon for people who are not being heard."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/may/16/cannesfilmfestival.northernireland
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Northumbria Police failings leads to Martin McGartland shooting by IRA - Northumbria Police Cover Up
Taken From Book, Fifty Dead Men Walking, by Martin McGartland;-
On Thursday morning in June 1999 I unlocked the car door, sat inside the car and started the engine. But before I could close the door I sensed someone was nearby. I looked up, saw this man wearing a green coat with a gun pointing at me. Instinctively, I lifted my right arm to protect myself. A split second later I felt two thuds hit my right side, the shock reverberating through my body.
I knew in that instant that this gunman was a Provo assassin and from the impact the bullets made on my body I guessed he was using a heavy calibre round, probably a 9mm fired from an automatic. But thank God my brain was still working and I knew that I had to stop him shooting me again. I knew he would go for my head; I knew he would have been told exactly where to target and what to do.
The power of the shots had thrown my body across the car seat to the passenger side and the gunman stretched out his arm so that his gun was close to my head. Before he could pull the trigger I somehow managed to grab the barrel of the gun with my left hand and it went off, the bullet ripping through my hand and lodging in my stomach.
I tried to keep hold of the gun. Something inside my head told me that I had to keep hold of that gun if I was to survive. I wanted to turn the gun so that if he pulled the trigger he would shoot himself. But my strength was fading fast. I felt suddenly powerless, almost at his mercy. I tried to hang on to the gun but I couldn’t. With a concerted tug he managed to wrench the gun from my hand. At that instant I believed I was a dead man.
But the will to survive, to live another day, took over and something stirred deep inside me. I wasn’t finished yet. I tried to lunge towards him again, to grab the gun, but I simply didn’t have the strength. He stepped back a pace and fired four more times hitting me twice in the chest, in the stomach and in the top of the leg.
I heard the ‘tap-tap’ of the automatic and two bullets thudded into my chest with real force. The pain surged through my body and the power of those bullets sent me sprawling backwards across the car seats. I thought he had shot me in the heart and I knew that would be curtains. Before I could sit up I heard the sound of two more ‘tap-taps’ and I felt pain in my stomach and in the top of my leg. I could do nothing to protect myself. I couldn’t move. I was now at his mercy. This was the end.
I thought in that split second that I didn’t want to die, sprawled on the front seat of a car, my body punctured by bullets from a Provo gunman. My mind flashed to the number of times I had seen others killed in this way in Northern Ireland over the years, their dead, broken bodies sprawled grotesquely in the cars they were driving. Something told me that I had to survive.
For what seemed like seconds I waited for more bullets but there were none. I looked up and he had gone, disappeared from sight. Convinced that he had carried out his mission, certain that I was dead, the bastard had fled.
I realised that grabbing that gun had so disorientated the Provo gunman that he panicked. I knew the Prove orders – always shoot people in the head because then we know they’re dead men. And dead men can’t talk.
It took me a couple of seconds to collect my thoughts. I guessed he wouldn’t return for he must have thought that with seven rounds inside me from something like a 9mm automatic I hadn’t a hope in hell of surviving. I wasn’t too sure myself at that stage. Now the pain began to take over, wracking my chest, my side, my stomach and my leg. I looked at my thumb hanging by a thread and repeated over and over, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’. Somehow, swearing like that helped me get my head together.
I told myself that I was alive and that if I could stay alive until I got to hospital I would be okay. But how the hell could I get to hospital like this? I thought of trying to drive and then told myself I was being stupid. I hoped to hell someone had heard the sound of shots.
As I struggled to get out of the car, to get help, I felt again the thudding impact of the bullets each time they hit my body, knocking me backwards, knocking the stuffing out of me, preventing me from lunging at him and getting the gun. I managed to pull myself out of the car and then I collapsed onto the ground. I knew I had been shot six or seven times, but I was still breathing, though blood was pumping from my chest, my side and my stomach and my thumb looked as though it had been shot away.
My only fear was that I would lie in that garage and bleed to death. I put my arm across my chest to try and stop the blood gushing out but it was everywhere. I wondered if the Prove bastard had hit my heart or a main artery and realised that I had to stay conscious. I tried to feel my heart to see if it was okay and felt it pumping away. But I worried in case all the blood was being pumped out of my body rather than round my arteries.
I kept telling myself that whatever happened I must not fall asleep though I felt like closing my eyes and drifting off into oblivion. I kept talking to myself, saying over and over again, ‘If you fall asleep you will never wake again. If you fall unconscious you will simply die. Now, for fuck’s sake keep awake.’
And then I felt pain. A minute or so must have passed since the Provo bastard ran off, and, until that moment there had been little pain. Now the pain wracked my body, my chest, my side, my stomach, my arm, my hand. Shit, it hurt. I gritted my teeth to try and stop the pain hurting so much but I couldn’t. I kept talking to myself, telling myself that I could handle the pain as long as I lived. I tried telling myself that the pain wasn’t that bad but it was getting to me. I just wanted to curl up and sleep.
I also realised that if I didn’t get to hospital quickly I would die. I tried to shout for help but the words wouldn’t come. Somehow I couldn’t find the strength to shout for help, only moans came from my throat. Alone in that garage, with the blood pouring out of my body and with my chest, side and stomach pumping blood through my clothes and on to the floor, I felt my life was over. The bastard Provos had got their revenge.
Then I heard voices shouting ‘Marty’ and it was the most glorious sound of my entire life. Now there was hope. I managed to open my eyes and through blurred vision I recognised my neighbours, the Connon family, bending over me asking if I was alright.
Jesus, it was good to see them; I could have cried when I realised they had come to the rescue; had come to help me. I knew the whole family. They were good, honest people and I knew in that instant that they would help me and save me. Somewhere in my mind I recalled that their elder son Adam, aged around eighteen, had studied first aid and that his mother Andrea was something to do with a hospital.
I heard them asking me questions and I can’t recall if I replied or not. My memory was going and so was my brain. I think I murmured ‘fucking Provos’.
‘Keep quiet, stay still,’ Adam said. ‘An ambulance is on the way. Just lie still and you’ll be okay.’
Adam took off my T-shirt and someone ran off and returned with cling film which he wrapped around my chest and my side in an effort to stem the bleeding. I remember him stuffing stocks into my wounds trying to stop the flow of blood that was everywhere. I recall his mother Andrea cradling my head in her arms, talking to me, soothing me, keeping me conscious as we waited for the ambulance. I owe my life to that family and particularly Adam. If it hadn’t been for his quick thinking I would be dead.
The next thing I remember was waking in hospital some 48 hours later, drifting in and out of consciousness. My mother Kate, sister Lizzie and brother Joseph were there standing around my bed and I wondered why they were there as though this was all part of a dream. I couldn’t understand what they were doing there, standing at the end of my bed looking at me. I asked if I was going to live. They gave me the answer I wanted to hear and I drifted once more into unconsciousness.
Five days after the shooting I was still in intensive care guarded round the clock by seven armed police officers, all wearing body armour. Ten days later I was moved from hospital to a safe house but I was still under armed guard. For two years I had pleaded with the Northumbria Police and the Home Secretary Jack Straw to give me some protection but they had always refused, saying I was in no danger from the IRA. They even refused to give me any CCTV system to check outside my house for any suspicious strangers.
And yet my former friends in Northern Ireland’s Special Branch knew differently. They knew my life was still under threat even though there was a so-called cease fire, even though peace talks were due to start within days, attended by both Prime Minister Tony Blair and the Irish Taoiseach Bertie Aherne. The Belfast SB knew I was still high on the IRA’s death list. But the Northumbria Police and the Home Secretary chose to ignore their advice.
If they had listened to those senior officers who knew the minds of those hard-line IRA activists, I would never have been shot because I would have had some protection. I was never cavalier about my security. I always knew that sometime, somewhere, they would have another go at me. And I was determined to make sure they didn’t get me.
After the Good Friday Peace Agreement was signed in 1998 I had high hopes that one day I would be able to lead a normal, ordinary life; get a proper job, enjoy my life a little without the constant worry of waiting for the unexpected, the knock at the door, a bullet in the back or a gunman waiting by the garage to kill me. The longer the peace deal was intact the more my hopes rose.
Then Eamonn Collins, a self-confessed IRA killer who turned against the terrorist movement, was murdered by the Provos. At the time of his shooting I made a statement saying, ‘Now I feel like I am waiting for someone to come to my house and shoot me.’
I tackled Sinn Fein President Gerry Adams during a radio talk show earlier this year asking him when Sinn Fein/IRA were going to allow people like me to return in safety to Northern Ireland without fear of reprisals. His answer was evasive. That too made me realise that I had to keep my wits about me.
I heard in May this year that MI5 had warned senior politicians, including several former Northern Ireland Secretaries, to take extra care over security for they feared the Provos were intent on launching a new wave of violence. But no one warned me.
My Ma told me when she saw me lying in the hospital with bullet wounds all over my body, ‘Marty, you can’t go on like this. You’ve got to get away. You know the Provos will never give up trying to kill you, peace or no peace.’
I know she’s right; my ma was always right. Now I must persuade the Home Secretary and the Northumbria Police to listen, take note and give me some protection.
End
Ps; Within minutes of Martin's shooting, while Martin was fighting for his life, Northumbria Police, Mi5 and British Government began a cover-up and a smear campaign against Martin McGartland, Why? Simple, they did so to save face given it was Northumbria Police and Mi5 who exposed Martin to danger after they, CPS and Mi5, took a failed malicious prosecution against him in 1987. During the case Northumbria Police read out Martin McGartland's name, home address in open court. Those details were published in UK wide newspapers. However, Northumbria Police continued to repeat the lie that Martin was safe. Martin McGartland was not safe, Mi5, Northumbria Police and CPS knew that, and he was shot 6 times by the IRA outside his home on 17th June 1999. Since then Northumbria Police have been covering-up the Martin McGartland case, covering-up for the IRA and refusing to admit in public that the IRA was involved in Martin attempted murder.
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Lots has happened since. You can read the whole story in; Fifty Dead Men Walking (Book) and Dead Man Running (Martin's second book). There has, and continues to be a Northumbria Police, Mi5 and British Government Cover-up, Jack Straw and home office have been involved. You can follow Martin on Facebook, Bebo and on the Martin McGartland Blogs.
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On Thursday morning in June 1999 I unlocked the car door, sat inside the car and started the engine. But before I could close the door I sensed someone was nearby. I looked up, saw this man wearing a green coat with a gun pointing at me. Instinctively, I lifted my right arm to protect myself. A split second later I felt two thuds hit my right side, the shock reverberating through my body.
I knew in that instant that this gunman was a Provo assassin and from the impact the bullets made on my body I guessed he was using a heavy calibre round, probably a 9mm fired from an automatic. But thank God my brain was still working and I knew that I had to stop him shooting me again. I knew he would go for my head; I knew he would have been told exactly where to target and what to do.
The power of the shots had thrown my body across the car seat to the passenger side and the gunman stretched out his arm so that his gun was close to my head. Before he could pull the trigger I somehow managed to grab the barrel of the gun with my left hand and it went off, the bullet ripping through my hand and lodging in my stomach.
I tried to keep hold of the gun. Something inside my head told me that I had to keep hold of that gun if I was to survive. I wanted to turn the gun so that if he pulled the trigger he would shoot himself. But my strength was fading fast. I felt suddenly powerless, almost at his mercy. I tried to hang on to the gun but I couldn’t. With a concerted tug he managed to wrench the gun from my hand. At that instant I believed I was a dead man.
But the will to survive, to live another day, took over and something stirred deep inside me. I wasn’t finished yet. I tried to lunge towards him again, to grab the gun, but I simply didn’t have the strength. He stepped back a pace and fired four more times hitting me twice in the chest, in the stomach and in the top of the leg.
I heard the ‘tap-tap’ of the automatic and two bullets thudded into my chest with real force. The pain surged through my body and the power of those bullets sent me sprawling backwards across the car seats. I thought he had shot me in the heart and I knew that would be curtains. Before I could sit up I heard the sound of two more ‘tap-taps’ and I felt pain in my stomach and in the top of my leg. I could do nothing to protect myself. I couldn’t move. I was now at his mercy. This was the end.
I thought in that split second that I didn’t want to die, sprawled on the front seat of a car, my body punctured by bullets from a Provo gunman. My mind flashed to the number of times I had seen others killed in this way in Northern Ireland over the years, their dead, broken bodies sprawled grotesquely in the cars they were driving. Something told me that I had to survive.
For what seemed like seconds I waited for more bullets but there were none. I looked up and he had gone, disappeared from sight. Convinced that he had carried out his mission, certain that I was dead, the bastard had fled.
I realised that grabbing that gun had so disorientated the Provo gunman that he panicked. I knew the Prove orders – always shoot people in the head because then we know they’re dead men. And dead men can’t talk.
It took me a couple of seconds to collect my thoughts. I guessed he wouldn’t return for he must have thought that with seven rounds inside me from something like a 9mm automatic I hadn’t a hope in hell of surviving. I wasn’t too sure myself at that stage. Now the pain began to take over, wracking my chest, my side, my stomach and my leg. I looked at my thumb hanging by a thread and repeated over and over, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’. Somehow, swearing like that helped me get my head together.
I told myself that I was alive and that if I could stay alive until I got to hospital I would be okay. But how the hell could I get to hospital like this? I thought of trying to drive and then told myself I was being stupid. I hoped to hell someone had heard the sound of shots.
As I struggled to get out of the car, to get help, I felt again the thudding impact of the bullets each time they hit my body, knocking me backwards, knocking the stuffing out of me, preventing me from lunging at him and getting the gun. I managed to pull myself out of the car and then I collapsed onto the ground. I knew I had been shot six or seven times, but I was still breathing, though blood was pumping from my chest, my side and my stomach and my thumb looked as though it had been shot away.
My only fear was that I would lie in that garage and bleed to death. I put my arm across my chest to try and stop the blood gushing out but it was everywhere. I wondered if the Prove bastard had hit my heart or a main artery and realised that I had to stay conscious. I tried to feel my heart to see if it was okay and felt it pumping away. But I worried in case all the blood was being pumped out of my body rather than round my arteries.
I kept telling myself that whatever happened I must not fall asleep though I felt like closing my eyes and drifting off into oblivion. I kept talking to myself, saying over and over again, ‘If you fall asleep you will never wake again. If you fall unconscious you will simply die. Now, for fuck’s sake keep awake.’
And then I felt pain. A minute or so must have passed since the Provo bastard ran off, and, until that moment there had been little pain. Now the pain wracked my body, my chest, my side, my stomach, my arm, my hand. Shit, it hurt. I gritted my teeth to try and stop the pain hurting so much but I couldn’t. I kept talking to myself, telling myself that I could handle the pain as long as I lived. I tried telling myself that the pain wasn’t that bad but it was getting to me. I just wanted to curl up and sleep.
I also realised that if I didn’t get to hospital quickly I would die. I tried to shout for help but the words wouldn’t come. Somehow I couldn’t find the strength to shout for help, only moans came from my throat. Alone in that garage, with the blood pouring out of my body and with my chest, side and stomach pumping blood through my clothes and on to the floor, I felt my life was over. The bastard Provos had got their revenge.
Then I heard voices shouting ‘Marty’ and it was the most glorious sound of my entire life. Now there was hope. I managed to open my eyes and through blurred vision I recognised my neighbours, the Connon family, bending over me asking if I was alright.
Jesus, it was good to see them; I could have cried when I realised they had come to the rescue; had come to help me. I knew the whole family. They were good, honest people and I knew in that instant that they would help me and save me. Somewhere in my mind I recalled that their elder son Adam, aged around eighteen, had studied first aid and that his mother Andrea was something to do with a hospital.
I heard them asking me questions and I can’t recall if I replied or not. My memory was going and so was my brain. I think I murmured ‘fucking Provos’.
‘Keep quiet, stay still,’ Adam said. ‘An ambulance is on the way. Just lie still and you’ll be okay.’
Adam took off my T-shirt and someone ran off and returned with cling film which he wrapped around my chest and my side in an effort to stem the bleeding. I remember him stuffing stocks into my wounds trying to stop the flow of blood that was everywhere. I recall his mother Andrea cradling my head in her arms, talking to me, soothing me, keeping me conscious as we waited for the ambulance. I owe my life to that family and particularly Adam. If it hadn’t been for his quick thinking I would be dead.
The next thing I remember was waking in hospital some 48 hours later, drifting in and out of consciousness. My mother Kate, sister Lizzie and brother Joseph were there standing around my bed and I wondered why they were there as though this was all part of a dream. I couldn’t understand what they were doing there, standing at the end of my bed looking at me. I asked if I was going to live. They gave me the answer I wanted to hear and I drifted once more into unconsciousness.
Five days after the shooting I was still in intensive care guarded round the clock by seven armed police officers, all wearing body armour. Ten days later I was moved from hospital to a safe house but I was still under armed guard. For two years I had pleaded with the Northumbria Police and the Home Secretary Jack Straw to give me some protection but they had always refused, saying I was in no danger from the IRA. They even refused to give me any CCTV system to check outside my house for any suspicious strangers.
And yet my former friends in Northern Ireland’s Special Branch knew differently. They knew my life was still under threat even though there was a so-called cease fire, even though peace talks were due to start within days, attended by both Prime Minister Tony Blair and the Irish Taoiseach Bertie Aherne. The Belfast SB knew I was still high on the IRA’s death list. But the Northumbria Police and the Home Secretary chose to ignore their advice.
If they had listened to those senior officers who knew the minds of those hard-line IRA activists, I would never have been shot because I would have had some protection. I was never cavalier about my security. I always knew that sometime, somewhere, they would have another go at me. And I was determined to make sure they didn’t get me.
After the Good Friday Peace Agreement was signed in 1998 I had high hopes that one day I would be able to lead a normal, ordinary life; get a proper job, enjoy my life a little without the constant worry of waiting for the unexpected, the knock at the door, a bullet in the back or a gunman waiting by the garage to kill me. The longer the peace deal was intact the more my hopes rose.
Then Eamonn Collins, a self-confessed IRA killer who turned against the terrorist movement, was murdered by the Provos. At the time of his shooting I made a statement saying, ‘Now I feel like I am waiting for someone to come to my house and shoot me.’
I tackled Sinn Fein President Gerry Adams during a radio talk show earlier this year asking him when Sinn Fein/IRA were going to allow people like me to return in safety to Northern Ireland without fear of reprisals. His answer was evasive. That too made me realise that I had to keep my wits about me.
I heard in May this year that MI5 had warned senior politicians, including several former Northern Ireland Secretaries, to take extra care over security for they feared the Provos were intent on launching a new wave of violence. But no one warned me.
My Ma told me when she saw me lying in the hospital with bullet wounds all over my body, ‘Marty, you can’t go on like this. You’ve got to get away. You know the Provos will never give up trying to kill you, peace or no peace.’
I know she’s right; my ma was always right. Now I must persuade the Home Secretary and the Northumbria Police to listen, take note and give me some protection.
End
Ps; Within minutes of Martin's shooting, while Martin was fighting for his life, Northumbria Police, Mi5 and British Government began a cover-up and a smear campaign against Martin McGartland, Why? Simple, they did so to save face given it was Northumbria Police and Mi5 who exposed Martin to danger after they, CPS and Mi5, took a failed malicious prosecution against him in 1987. During the case Northumbria Police read out Martin McGartland's name, home address in open court. Those details were published in UK wide newspapers. However, Northumbria Police continued to repeat the lie that Martin was safe. Martin McGartland was not safe, Mi5, Northumbria Police and CPS knew that, and he was shot 6 times by the IRA outside his home on 17th June 1999. Since then Northumbria Police have been covering-up the Martin McGartland case, covering-up for the IRA and refusing to admit in public that the IRA was involved in Martin attempted murder.
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Lots has happened since. You can read the whole story in; Fifty Dead Men Walking (Book) and Dead Man Running (Martin's second book). There has, and continues to be a Northumbria Police, Mi5 and British Government Cover-up, Jack Straw and home office have been involved. You can follow Martin on Facebook, Bebo and on the Martin McGartland Blogs.
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Saturday, March 1, 2008
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' (Film) really based on truth? 'No, its's as near to the truth as earth is to pluto,' says Martin McGartland
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Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' (Film) really based on truth? 'No, its's as near to the truth as earth is to pluto,' says Martin McGartland.
=============================================================================================================================
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' really based on truth?
Martin McGartland, whose memoir forms the basis for 'Fifty Dead Men Walking', talks to Time Out about how he believes he's been inaccurately portrayed in the film
Last week saw the release of the film ‘Fifty Dead Men Walking’, a thriller adapted from the book of the same name by Martin McGartland, a working class Belfast boy who became both a respected member of the IRA and an informer for the British secret service. McGartland has been living in hiding for the past two decades, during which time he has been tracked down and shot twice. So it came as something of a surprise when he contacted the Time Out offices to discuss his reactions to the film which, he asserts, crucially misrepresents some episodes from his life story.
‘The best way I can explain it in basic, blunt terms, is it’s as near to the truth as Earth is to Pluto,’ McGartland insists. ‘If a film is loosely based on someone’s life story, how does the audience know what’s true and what’s fiction?’
McGartland cites various specific incidences where the film strays from his version of the truth. ‘I have never drank in my life, I have never smoked in my life and (actor) Jim Sturgess is in pubs getting pissed all the time and smoking cigarettes. All the stuff about me getting shot in Canada, I’ve never been to Canada in my life except for a brief holiday. I never lived there. And I certainly was not present when a suspected informer was interrogated and murdered. That made me so angry.’
But for McGartland, this isn’t just a case of creative licence. ‘Not only is there sympathy for the Republican movement (in the film), but the director, Kari Skogland, has done some kind of deal with the IRA whereby she has allowed them to be consultants and also, this is on record too, they’ve actually been on set when the film was being made, which is unheard of. How can you make a film about the IRA when they’re standing watching over your shoulder?’
Director Skogland angrily refutes McGartland’s claims, though she admits she did consult ex-IRA members when researching the film, and accepts that ex-Republicans were on set during shooting. ‘But so were the army!’ she argues. ‘They were there at the same time. Everyone was getting along, it was really very important, the army was there, the RUC was there, everyone wanted me to get it right, to have a very authentic view. While I would not want to suggest the IRA had any influence on the film because they didn’t, I certainly had to go to people to make sure that if I’m portraying them I’m not portraying them from some Hollywood, ill-conceived, stereotypical perspective.’
She also asserts that she offered McGartland an advisory role on the film and held numerous conversations with him during shooting. ‘I spent hours talking to him, and recognised that he had quite a distinct agenda. I felt because he had such a passionate perspective, his intention would have been to make it a political document, that was not the intention of the movie. This was not an agenda-oriented film. I listened and I was very respectful but at the same time I couldn’t let his voice change the dynamic of the picture that I knew was a truthful story of what it is to be an informer.’
Whatever the respective merits of their conflicting views, the incident highlights the responsibility filmmakers bear when telling real-life stories, particularly when their subjects are alive and eager to speak out. McGartland is concerned that the film will now be the only way people remember his contribution to what he views as a righteous cause.
‘I’ve been kidnapped by the IRA, jumped out a window to save my own life. I’ve been through the mill and back again and I accept all those consequences as a result of what I do… I didn’t want any control over the film, I just wanted them to do it in a fair way.’
Author: Tom Huddleston
http://www.timeout.com/film/features/show-feature/7273/is-fifty-dead-men-walking-really-based-on-truth.html
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' (Film) really based on truth? 'No, its's as near to the truth as earth is to pluto,' says Martin McGartland.
=============================================================================================================================
Is 'Fifty Dead Men Walking' really based on truth?
Martin McGartland, whose memoir forms the basis for 'Fifty Dead Men Walking', talks to Time Out about how he believes he's been inaccurately portrayed in the film
Last week saw the release of the film ‘Fifty Dead Men Walking’, a thriller adapted from the book of the same name by Martin McGartland, a working class Belfast boy who became both a respected member of the IRA and an informer for the British secret service. McGartland has been living in hiding for the past two decades, during which time he has been tracked down and shot twice. So it came as something of a surprise when he contacted the Time Out offices to discuss his reactions to the film which, he asserts, crucially misrepresents some episodes from his life story.
‘The best way I can explain it in basic, blunt terms, is it’s as near to the truth as Earth is to Pluto,’ McGartland insists. ‘If a film is loosely based on someone’s life story, how does the audience know what’s true and what’s fiction?’
McGartland cites various specific incidences where the film strays from his version of the truth. ‘I have never drank in my life, I have never smoked in my life and (actor) Jim Sturgess is in pubs getting pissed all the time and smoking cigarettes. All the stuff about me getting shot in Canada, I’ve never been to Canada in my life except for a brief holiday. I never lived there. And I certainly was not present when a suspected informer was interrogated and murdered. That made me so angry.’
But for McGartland, this isn’t just a case of creative licence. ‘Not only is there sympathy for the Republican movement (in the film), but the director, Kari Skogland, has done some kind of deal with the IRA whereby she has allowed them to be consultants and also, this is on record too, they’ve actually been on set when the film was being made, which is unheard of. How can you make a film about the IRA when they’re standing watching over your shoulder?’
Director Skogland angrily refutes McGartland’s claims, though she admits she did consult ex-IRA members when researching the film, and accepts that ex-Republicans were on set during shooting. ‘But so were the army!’ she argues. ‘They were there at the same time. Everyone was getting along, it was really very important, the army was there, the RUC was there, everyone wanted me to get it right, to have a very authentic view. While I would not want to suggest the IRA had any influence on the film because they didn’t, I certainly had to go to people to make sure that if I’m portraying them I’m not portraying them from some Hollywood, ill-conceived, stereotypical perspective.’
She also asserts that she offered McGartland an advisory role on the film and held numerous conversations with him during shooting. ‘I spent hours talking to him, and recognised that he had quite a distinct agenda. I felt because he had such a passionate perspective, his intention would have been to make it a political document, that was not the intention of the movie. This was not an agenda-oriented film. I listened and I was very respectful but at the same time I couldn’t let his voice change the dynamic of the picture that I knew was a truthful story of what it is to be an informer.’
Whatever the respective merits of their conflicting views, the incident highlights the responsibility filmmakers bear when telling real-life stories, particularly when their subjects are alive and eager to speak out. McGartland is concerned that the film will now be the only way people remember his contribution to what he views as a righteous cause.
‘I’ve been kidnapped by the IRA, jumped out a window to save my own life. I’ve been through the mill and back again and I accept all those consequences as a result of what I do… I didn’t want any control over the film, I just wanted them to do it in a fair way.’
Author: Tom Huddleston
http://www.timeout.com/film/features/show-feature/7273/is-fifty-dead-men-walking-really-based-on-truth.html
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