A formula for accretion puts little hair on bald figures

Compared with Frank Dunlop's fox-in-the-henhouse performance on Tuesday, George Redmond's return to the Flood tribunal was not…

Compared with Frank Dunlop's fox-in-the-henhouse performance on Tuesday, George Redmond's return to the Flood tribunal was not an occasion to ruffle feathers.

The day-long trawl through the bank accounts of the former assistant manager for Dublin city and county was fascinating in its own way, but the witness's intense suntan was the most colourful thing about much of the evidence. He cut a solitary bronze figure yesterday among a sea of black and white ones.

His financial figures were certainly impressive. Bank accounts aside, it seems that at one time Mr Redmond was furnishing his house with money. In the early 1980s, his diary recorded £35,000 cash in the "bathroom", £12,000 in the "kitchen" and £22,000 in a "press".

Equally fascinating was the contrast between Mr Redmond's relatively modest salary from Dublin Corporation and his burgeoning investment portfolio. The latter grew at a rate not seen since the case of Jack and the Beanstalk; until it topped an estimated £1 million in 1998, excluding a home in Castleknock which has since been sold for £750,000.

READ MORE

When, late in the afternoon, counsel for the tribunal juxtaposed Mr Redmond's total salary for a period in the 1980s with a simultaneous doubling of his savings to £600,000, Mr Redmond offered several partial explanations for the "accretion", including interest payments and other returns.

But a £300,000 increase was a big, bald figure, and the witness's Accretion 2000 formula hadn't put much hair on it by close of business.

Mr Redmond did grant that much of his "extramural" income came from two men: builder Tom Brennan and a former colleague, now deceased, Paddy Treacy.

He had become friendly with both in the 1960s, and while the relationships were "innocuous" the friends valued his advice and were very "generous". He knew now he should not have taken the money, but those were "different times". Wistfully, he added: "I can see looking back how it all went wrong."

Beyond these beautiful friendships, however, Mr Redmond found it very difficult to recall much in the way of detail from those times. He struggled to remember, like the character in Krapp's Last Tape, but unlike Krapp he hadn't always kept a record.

At length, asked if he could accept £20,000, Mr Redmond agreed it was "probably a good figure". It was an excellent figure, everybody in the hall thought, but the witness was still unsure. "It's so vague . . . It can't be more than that," he added.

"More than £20,000?" asked counsel.

"More than vague," said Mr Redmond.

In a biblical reference, Mr Redmond attempted to explain the "genesis" of his wealth in terms of the expansion of development in Co Dublin from the 1960s onwards. But it was a rather vague explanation; and whatever about genesis, we never got as far as revelation.