And with one bound, our hero wasn't free. Miriam Lordat Dublin Castle
"Hold me coat! Let me at 'em!" For the last couple of years, Bertie Ahern has been doing a passable imitation of the lion in The Wizard of Oz, dancing on the spot with his fists in the air, roaring "Put 'em up! Put 'em up!" at his tormentors in Dublin Castle.
Very impressive it's been too. At every opportunity, the Taoiseach wailed about the Mahon tribunal tormenting him in private but refusing to enter the ring and take him on.
At every opportunity, he expressed his frustration at not being allowed to enter the witness box and tell everything. In letting matters drag on, and allowing rumour and innuendo against him gain currency, the tribunal was doing severe damage to his public and personal reputation, he complained.
Over the years, there was angry talk of witchhunts and hidden agendas and smear campaigns and "Lulus" waiting in the bushes to do him harm.
As he put it himself yesterday while reading a statement at the start of his longed-for appearance in the witness box: "it's the first opportunity in seven and a half years of being tormented about these issues that I have had the chance to come before the justices."
The tribunal, in the unwavering form of Senior Counsel Des O'Neill, spent the rest of the day framing its response. It was desperately tedious stuff, but legally necessary.
That response can be summed up in six words: "And whose fault is that, then?"
While the Taoiseach was winning headlines and sympathy with his cowardly lion routine, it turns out that the tribunal was gloved up and ready to go, but encountering severe difficulty enticing their witness out of his corner. It took them two and a half years to do it, and enough correspondence from both sides to sink the Russian navy. In the end, they resorted to the legal equivalent of a block and tackle, hauling Bertie into the open with the threat of compelling him to attend a public hearing in order to get answers to specific questions.
The money in question, according to Bertie's explanations, related to the Drumcondra dig-out and Manchester whiparound, sensitively translated by the genteel souls in Dublin Castle as "the goodwill loans". It also concerned money lodged in relation to the refurbishment of a house the Taoiseach intended to rent in 1994, with an option to purchase, from Manchester businessman Michael Wall.
So far, so complicated. Although Bertie, a paid-up member of the Muddy Waters fan club, didn't seem to think so.
The chamber was packed, and in a state of high excitement, in advance of his appearance yesterday morning. The Taoiseach arrived about an hour ahead of time, smiling broadly and waving to the cameras. There was a large Garda presence, on the lookout for possible Lulus.
Very unusually, he was allowed read a statement before his cross-examination began. On familiar ground, Bertie read his 15-minute script, reiterating his innocence of any dodgy financial dealings during all his years of public life. He repeated the substance of press statements he issued in recent months, outlining details of his financial transactions. And he categorically denied ever dealing in dollars.
"It's a complete red herring," said Bertie, who is already on the record deploring such tactics. "People should stop throwing white elephants and red herrings at each other," he once declared in the Dáil.
The tribunal hadn't expected him to make this statement, but allowed him to carry on with his successful pitch for the one o'clock news headlines. He threw some interesting new information into the mix, including the nugget that he engaged a banking expert, who has confirmed there is no evidence to substantiate a $45,000 transaction.
"My banking expert, chairman, is Paddy Strong, the former chief operating officer of Bank of Ireland Corporate Banking," said Bertie, with no small hint of triumph. Move over Paddy the Plasterer, here comes Paddy the Banker.
He also clarified the confused story of the purchase of his home in Drumcondra. However, his addition of further, and hitherto unknown, detail only served to make the unorthodox story of how he got the house even more confusing.
Both Celia Larkin and Michael Wall said in evidence that Larkin sourced the house, Wall bought it, and rented it to Bertie with the intention he would eventually buy it from him. Which he did, two years later. The businessman only stayed there on about 20 nights in those two years.
As this was to be her home with her then "life-partner", Celia wanted to build an extension to 44 Beresford. Bizarrely, Wall undertook to pay for it, giving Bertie £30,000 in cash for that purpose three months before purchase went through.
Ahern threw 50 grand of his own money into the refurbishment kitty for the relatively new four-bedroom semi-d. He transferred the sum into a new account opened by Larkin. All this happened on the weekend in December 1994 when he expected to become taoiseach. That's the big reason Bertie needed a proper house to live in.
In her evidence, Celia said she got stuck into "administering the expenditure". Then, in January, after things had gone pear-shaped for Bertie and he was leader of the opposition, he asked her to withdraw the £50,000 from the bank and give him the cash.
She was asked on Wednesday why he did that. "Ask him," was Celia's brusque reply. Chairman Alan Mahon asked her again. "It was used on the house," she said.
Yesterday, in Muddy Waters mode, her former partner said he had quickly changed his mind about buying the house. After suffering the disappointment of not being elected taoiseach, his need for suitable accommodation was no long pressing. He started looking actively at other houses.
Because he changed his mind, he decided to return Wall's £30,000, which is why he withdrew the £50,000 in January. In the end, he decided he didn't want to buy a new house at all.
Unfortunately, Michael Wall had an accident. Bertie and Celia went to visit him in Manchester, and it was decided to proceed with the original plan. Thus, Ahern wouldn't need to return the cash after all.
This is all very strange. Neither Celia nor Michael mentioned Bertie's change of mind in their testimony.
And Bertie, having decided not to go ahead, and having withdrawn the payback money for his Manchester friend in January, didn't think to say anything to poor Michael, who was steaming ahead with the purchase of a house he didn't really need. And poor Celia was still consulting interior decorators and administering the expenditure. Bertie, as she said on Wednesday, never told her why he was withdrawing the fifty grand. She was under the impression it was to spend on the new decor.
Yet all the while, he had no intention of buying that dream house with his then life-partner.
Michael Wall exchanged contracts in February. Still no word from Bertie. The deal closed in late March. He now owns the house that Bertie doesn't want. Then he has his accident. It was around Easter, he confirmed on Tuesday.
Just as well that Bertie decided to stick with 44 Beresford after visiting his recuperating pal, because Michael was stuck with that house one way or the other.
This was the most exciting part of the day. The rest was spent putting the tribunal's tortuous correspondence with Ahern on the record. (Like when he tried to limit their trawl of his financial records to between 1989 and 1992, the period when the minister for finance didn't have any bank accounts.)
As the public gallery and press corps wilted, Deathly Des, unflappable as a concrete eagle on a gatepost, painstakingly went through the files. Bertie hardly opened his mouth for six hours.
But in the very last exchange of the day, he accepted that from October 2004 to April 2007, he never disclosed to the tribunal that the source of the lodgements in question came from foreign currency.
All the tribunal wanted from Bertie was a full reconciliation.
They should have known it would be a tough task.
Ask Celia Larkin.