The inquests into the deaths of the 48 young people who died in the Stardust fire in Artane, Dublin, in 1981 feature pen portraits of each of the deceased by bereaved family members. Find all of the portraits and more coverage here.
He was 23 and I was 21 when he died. We had an older brother and sister.
Brendan and myself were on the same darts and football teams. He was a brilliant Irish dancer – at an international standard.
My father went to England to work when Mam was pregnant, and he never came back. My mother reared us. She worked hard all her life. We had no father, but we stuck together. Brendan would help anybody out in any way he could.
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He was very obliging and very decent. Nobody had a bad word to say about him. He was a good, honest, and decent fellah.
He was working as a driver at the time of his death, making deliveries that day.
On the night of the fire, Brendan invited me to go to the Stardust. He asked me if I was alright for a few bob. I didn’t go with him to the Stardust that night because I was exhausted after work. I had been on the road since 4.30 that morning.
In the early hours of the morning, I was asleep on the sofa when I was wakened by two of the other lads. They were all black and covered in cuts. They had a taxi waiting outside. They told me about the fire and then we went to the Stardust in the taxi. The taxi didn’t charge us.
When we got there, we saw bodies covered and brought out on stretchers. People that survived it were outside as well, sitting with blankets. They were all in shock, after seeing it first-hand.
We couldn’t find him there, so we went to all the hospitals. First Jervis Street hospital, then the Mater, then St James’s.
It was a relief that we had found our brother ... in Jervis Street hospital. He had black streaks down his back from melted burns. They had him lying on his front in a coma. His face looked sort of sunburned and I think something had fallen on his leg.
Brendan died 10 days later, on the 25th of February, after they amputated his leg. They were going to take his hand too. I can’t remember my own brother’s funeral.
My Mam, Bridget, would still set the table for Brendan, even after he had died. It was very upsetting, as the terrible reality would, then, hit her again.
It’s just that everyone was so young there. There were a lot of teenagers. It’s hard when anyone goes but the lads that I knew that died were only 20 or 21 years old. There were a good few girls too, like Paula Byrne. It’s hard to take in the reality that you’re not going to see them again.
I took it hard at the time. I was drinking. It was a very lonely time. I still think about Brendan every day. I have three girls and two boys. My youngest girl, Becky, is the image of my brother, Brendan. I often think about what we would be up to now.
I have been dreading the start of these inquests because we have been hurt and disappointed repeatedly. It’s too painful to do this. You think to yourself: ‘what’s the point in putting yourself through it? Are we going to be let down yet again?’. We need answers.