Michael Brady, the latest victim of a contract killing in Dublin, was shot four times as he sat in his car outside an apartment complex on Thursday night. Mr Brady had served a prison term for manslaughter but according to gardai, he had no connection with organised crime. There is nothing to suggest that he was a drugs importer or a major fraudster; no hint that he had rubbed shoulders with any of the leading criminals figures in the city.
And yet he was killed with the kind of ruthless, heartless efficiency that unfortunately seems to be becoming the norm when various criminal groups cross swords. Perhaps we should not be so surprised that it has come to this. It is clear that guns are widely available in Dublin. It is clear that there is no shortage of - mostly young - criminals who are prepared to use them. And it is has become abundantly clear that the forces of law and order in this State are floundering in their response.
By most estimates, Mr Brady's was the 13th contract killing in Dublin within the past two years. In virtually every case, there has been no arrest and no charges have been preferred. The old, easy confidence of the Garda that it could apprehend the murderer has given way to a kind of weary resignation. The message to the criminal community could hardly be clearer or more disturbing; in this society the professional assassin now appears to be beyond the grasp of our criminal justice system.
It is to be hoped that this latest killing will, finally, compel the Government to move beyond the platitudes and the complacency that have marked its response to crime. Two years after the current cycle of contract killings began with the murder of Martin Cahill, there is still no coherent strategy on crime; there is still no commitment to the kind of root and branch reform of the criminal justice system which is needed to enable policing to be carried out properly and effectively.
The reaction yesterday to the publication in this newspaper of a photograph of Mr Brady lying in his car was understandable. Callers to radio programmes expressed shock and anger and many readers telephoned this newspaper to complain of the graphic depiction of death. This newspaper's Readers' Representative was told, among other things, that the publication was `abhorrent voyeurism', a `gross intrusion into the privacy of death', `prurient' and something `the Irish public don't need to see'.
But some images have a power that words simply cannot match. They can shock and offend even those most inured to violence. But if publication of the photograph serves to bring to public attention the reality of the crime crisis on our streets and if it brings home the nature, scale and amorality of crime - then its use is worthwhile. Images such as the Vietnamese child set on fire by napalm said as much about the war in that country as millions of words. The pictures of the two British army corporals abducted and subsequently killed in Andersonstown made compelling and horrifying images of fear and hatred in Northern Ireland. The swollen bellied Biafran baby is an eternal image of famine. There are many, many more such images.
Sometimes people need to see more than it is possible to say.