It all seemed to be going perfectly. A huge motorcycle fleet of gardai met
the loyalist buses outside Drogheda. "Now I know how the Queen feels," said
Shankill man Hugh Gray as he surveyed the escort.
His friend, Raymond Elliot, had helped scrape into bags the remains of 10
people killed in the 1993 Shankill bomb. "I still have flashbacks," he said.
"There were body parts stuck to the walls.
"There could be no horror movie like it. I want the politicians down South
to recognise our suffering because our own leaders ignore it."
James Kell, whose brother Trevor was shot dead six years ago, was also on
the Shankill bus. "Trevor had only started taxiing three days earlier. He
wanted money for the kids for Christmas.
"I want to tell the Southern government to stop rewarding terrorists and to
pay attention to the victims," James Kell said. The mood on the bus was
optimistic. Nobody believed there would be trouble in Dublin.
Aileen Quinton, whose mother Alberta was killed in the 1987 Enniskillen
bomb, said: "My mother was from Donegal so I've every right to go to Dublin.
She was a nurse.
"All she ever did was help people. My parents honeymooned in Dublin – it's a
lovely city. The people are very decent."
Sandra Smyth's father Billy was injured in a bomb attack in Belfast's
Mountainview Bar. "He lost the sight in one eye, hearing in one ear, and the
use of fingers on his right hand," she said. "The Dublin government hasn't
ever listened to our story. I want them to now."
But the rally was severely curtailed. Organiser Willie Frazer denied any
responsibility for the violence: "Some of the victims crossed the border for
the first time in their lives. They were horrified. They'll never be back."
