Annie McCarrick: Man arrested on suspicion of US woman's murder
Gardaí have said that part of the house and garden will be searched and forensic examinations carried out.This search operation will be supported by other agencies, if required, according to Gardaí.It is being directed by a senior investigating officer, with the assistance of the serious crime review team from the Garda National Bureau of Criminal Investigation. The family of Annie McCarrick are being kept fully updated on the latest developments in the investigation.Gardaí are also appealing to anyone who may have previously come forward, but who felt they could not provide all the relevant information they had at the time, to contact them again. With the passage of time, according to a spokesperson, these individuals may now be willing to speak again with the investigation team.
Groceries had been left unpacked
Annie McCarrick was the only child of her father, John, who is deceased, and her mother, Nancy, and was originally from New York.As a teenager, she visited Ireland on a school trip.Her parents had previously described how she fell in love with Ireland and the way of life and how, upon her return to New York, she indicated her intention to return to Ireland to live.In the late 1980s, she completed her third level studies at St Patrick's College, Drumcondra in Dublin and at St Patrick's College, Maynooth, before returning to New York in 1991 to complete her studies at Stoney Brook University.In January 1993, she moved to Ireland to live permanently and settled into rental accommodation at Sandymount in Dublin with two other tenants.That March, Annie spoke to both her flatmates before they left separately to travel home for the weekend.She also made arrangements with friends, inviting them to her apartment for dinner the following day, 27 March 1993.She was also said to be excited and making plans for her mother Nancy's impending visit to Ireland the following week.On 28 March 1993, friends of Annie McCarrick became concerned for her welfare after she was not at home when they called for the prearranged dinner.Groceries had been left unpacked in shopping bags and a receipt in the shopping bags was the last confirmed activity of Annie McCarrick.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Independent
a minute ago
- The Independent
A fisherman spotted an old Buick in the Mississippi River. The human remains inside may have solved a decades-old missing person's case
Two Minnesota fishermen may have made an unexpected crack in a decades-old missing persons case. One of the fishermen, Brody Loch, was fishing in the Mississippi River in Sartell, about 75 miles outside Minneapolis, and stumbled upon a 1960s Buick submerged 20 feet underwater. The car was picked up thanks to Loch's sonar after the friend he was fishing with made a catch nearby. He called the police about the suspicious vehicle, and days later, authorities uncovered human remains inside the car. 'It was 100 percent luck,' Loch told WCCO. 'If my buddy wouldn't have caught that walleye, then we would have just kept on floating down and never would have found it.' Authorities processed the vehicle and learned it belonged to Roy Benn, who mysteriously disappeared in 1967 with a large sum of money. On the last night he was seen, Benn dined at the King's Supper Club, north of Sartell and then drove a 1963 metallic blue Buick Electra, according to a missing person bulletin from the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. He was 59 at the time, according to St. Cloud Daily Times archives viewed by CNN. The human remains found inside the vehicle are believed to belong to Benn, who was declared legally dead in 1975, eight years after he went missing. "Looking back at some of the original case files, there was talk of quarries, there was talk of the Mississippi river, but of course, technology in the 1960s is nowhere near what we have now," said Sartell Police Chief Brandon Silgjord. 'Tons of credit for a fisherman to actually see that and then have the forethought to call the sheriff's office and make that report,' Silgjord said. 'Artifacts, clothing items, different things like that will absolutely help in piecing this whole thing together,' Silgjord said. Silgjord says investigators have received questions about the cash Benn was carrying when he vanished. "I think perspective needs to be offered sometimes, of what a large amount of cash looked like in 1960 versus now," Silgjord said. "Which very well could have been, from reading some of those original reports, several hundreds of dollars." The Benton County Sheriff's Office is leading the investigation for the case, and the remains found in the Buick have been sent to a medical examiner's office for examination.
BreakingNews.ie
2 hours ago
- BreakingNews.ie
Indian community celebrates independence day in Dublin
Hundreds of people have participated in an event marking India Day in Dublin, as gardaí and the Government sought to assure the community it was taking action against racially motivated crime. The free event at Merrion Square came despite a separate celebration being called off following concern over recent attacks on the Indian community. Advertisement Minister for Justice Jim O'Callaghan has expressed concern over 'totally unacceptable' attacks on the Indian community, adding that the majority appear to have been carried out by young people. Mr O'Callaghan said he engaged extensively with the Garda commissioner on the matter, and senior investigating officers had been assigned to investigate all reported incidents. Event organizer Sanjeeb Barik with a statue of the Indian deity Jagannath as people attend the India Day Festival at Merrion Square Park, Dublin (Niall Carson/PA) Sunday's celebration, organised for India's 79th independence day, featured music, dance, food stalls, exhibition stands and a range of cultural activities. Sanjeeb Barik, the secretary of organising group the Federation of Indian Communities in Ireland, said the event had gone well amid 'fantastic and beautiful weather'. Advertisement 'Lots of people are here, there's food and dancing and lots of fun.' Asked about the engagement with Government and gardai, Mr Barik said the event had received 'good support'. Speaking to the PA news agency, he said: 'Naturally, because there has been so many incidents there was some concern. 'We have been actively discussing with ministers, junior ministers and the Minister of Justice and they have all assured us that appropriate safety measures would be in place – and they are. Advertisement 'We're working very closely to make sure everyone would be safe and, importantly, that it would be enjoyable for everyone.' Mr Barik said they wanted to go ahead with the celebrations to send a message about the importance of standing together. 'It has been a challenging time but the main thing is to come together as a community and celebrate our heritage 'There are people from all backgrounds here – Indian, Irish and others – from all over the the island. Advertisement 'It is about the strength of bonding and sowing the richness of India and Ireland's multicultural spirit.' From left, Areet Kaur Chandi, seven, Japleen Kaur, 10, and Preety Singh, eight, join the festivities for India Day in Dublin (Niall Carson/PA) He said: 'We are saying come together, stand together. Celebrate unity and diversity – and I hope that will continue.' Inspector Ciaran Nunan from the Garda diversity unit said hate crimes are attacks on the whole community. 'The mission statement of An Garda Siochana is keeping people safe, and this refers to individuals, families, communities and society as a whole. Advertisement 'It also now includes hate crime. Hate crime is not just an attack on a person, it's an attack on the community. 'The gardaí is very aware of the impact that hate crime has upon individuals and communities, and we take it very, very seriously. 'Since our last India Day celebration last year, we now have hate crime legislation in force and we're applying that legislation at every opportunity – but we need people to report incidents of hate crime to us so that we can then take them on board and react to those.' Entertainment was part of the festivities in Merrion Square Park (Niall Carson/PA) He said: 'So I would encourage everybody or anybody that perceives to be a victim of a hate crime to please report it to An Garda Siochana, and allow us to continue what we're doing and work with our communities to keep people safe.'The Dublin event was attended by Akhilesh Mishra, ambassador of India to Ireland, and Minister of State Emer Higgins. The Ireland India Council, a separate group, said there had been an organised social media campaign against the Indian community in the country and the number of violent attacks has intensified since January. Last week, it said it took the 'difficult' decision to postpone its planned event at Farmleigh House over concerns for the safety of the community.
The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
The Miami Showband massacre: what led to the killing of the ‘Irish Beatles'?
'It was absolutely despicable,' says Des Lee, his voice trembling with emotion, 'to think that those people who were supposed to be protecting us had planned our murder …' I've never heard a story as astonishing as Lee's. His memoir, My Saxophone Saved My Life, recounts the events of half a century ago, in which his much-loved pop group, the Miami Showband, were ambushed by loyalist paramilitaries operating a fake army checkpoint, with half his bandmates murdered as he lay still, playing dead to stay alive. Though the attack carries strangely little traction in Britain, the Miami Showband massacre of 1975 is deeply etched into Irish cultural memory. Even amid the context of the Troubles, whose bleak statistics – more than 3,600 dead, more than 47,500 injured – made slaughter almost normalised, the killing of three members of the Miami Showband left Ireland in shock. Fifty years after the atrocity, Lee, 79, tells me about a tangled plot with its roots in the uniquely Irish phenomenon of showbands. In their heyday in the 1950s to 70s, showbands – besuited troupes, closer to cabaret than rock'n'roll, performing contemporary hits with slick routines choreographed down to the last synchronised leg kick – fulfilled a need for glamour and escapism at a time when overseas stars seldom visited Ireland. Showbands, who typically took the stage around midnight, provided a crucial context in which young people from the Catholic and Protestant communities could forget their troubles (and the Troubles), and let their hair down. 'As far as we were concerned,' Lee recalls, 'a punter was a punter, no matter what religion, creed or colour. They would mingle, and you could have a Protestant meeting a Catholic and getting married. It was incredible.' Born John Desmond McAlea on 29 July 1946, Lee grew up in the Catholic suburb of Andersonstown, West Belfast, in a relatively comfortable working-class family. He would supplement his pocket money in audacious ways. On 12 July, AKA The Twelfth or Orangemen's Day, the Protestant community would hold rallies at which the likes of Reverend Ian Paisley would vehemently denounce Republicans and Catholics. Lee would go along and blend with the crowd, collecting bottles discarded by the Loyalist throng and claiming the penny deposits. Lee found a job at a plumbing supplier but his head was soon turned by rock'n'roll, and he quit to follow in the footsteps of his nightclub musician father. He served his apprenticeship on a thriving Belfast scene centred around Cymbals instrument shop, where he rubbed shoulders with a teenage Van Morrison ('A strange guy,' says Lee, 'but an exceptional talent') and future members of Thin Lizzy. In 1967, the circuit's leading act, the Miami Showband, underwent one of its periodic reshuffles and drafted in Lee on sax, along with a handsome, charismatic singer-pianist called Fran O'Toole. Fronted by Dickie Rock, who had represented Ireland at Eurovision, the Miami were as big as it got. When Des calls them 'The Irish Beatles' with a twinkle, it's only slight hyperbole: they topped the Irish singles chart seven times. 'When I got the deal to join,' says Lee, 'I thought, 'My God, all my birthdays are coming together.' I jumped at it.' 'Girls were screaming,' he says. 'We would have 2,500 people inside watching us, and 2,500 outside trying to get in. I couldn't go to the shop without people wanting my autograph. It was stardom with a capital S.' Lee developed a close friendship and songwriting partnership with O'Toole, who later replaced Rock as frontman. Lee became the bandleader. His responsibilities included repertoire and finances, and ensuring everyone looked immaculate (70s footage shows them in dazzling-white suits with glittering lapels). He also instilled discipline. 'My job was to make sure everybody was squeaky clean,' he says. 'No going on the piss before a gig. We weren't saints or angels, make no mistake. What goes on afterwards, behind closed doors, nobody knows. But we had to put on a professional show.' The Miami Showband entered the summer of 1975 in an optimistic mood. The band had scored major hits with Charlie Rich's country standard There Won't Be Anymore and Bonnie St Claire's bubblegum-glam nugget Clap Your Hands and Stamp Your Feet. O'Toole was being groomed for solo stardom, and had been booked to play Las Vegas to launch his Lee-penned single Love Is, with the intention of positioning him as the next David Cassidy. But that show never took place. On Wednesday 30 July 1975, the Miami played the Castle Ballroom in Banbridge, County Down, about 10 miles north of the border. 'It was just a normal night, nothing untoward. We came off stage and did the usual thing: signed autographs, chatted to the fans, then we had a cup of tea and a sandwich, and got ready to do the journey back to Dublin.' Road manager Brian Maguire went ahead in the equipment van. Drummer Ray Millar drove separately to visit family in Antrim. The rest of the band – O'Toole, Lee, Brian McCoy, bassist Stephen Travers and guitarist Tony Geraghty – climbed into the Volkswagen minibus and headed south. Eight miles into the journey, at 2.30am on Thursday 31 July, they were flagged down by the red torch of an army checkpoint, a commonplace occurrence in the North. 'You would be asked the same questions: 'Where are you going, where are you coming from?'' says Lee. 'We would be sitting in the van with a bottle of brandy or whiskey, and we'd occasionally offer a drop to the soldier who stopped us.' They were asked to step out of the van – again, not entirely unusual – and made to line up facing the roadside ditch. At first, the soldiers chatted casually, but their demeanour changed when someone with an English accent joined them and began giving orders. McCoy found this reassuring, telling Travers that they were dealing with the British army rather than the less predictable, locally recruited Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR). Before the search, Lee asked permission to fetch his saxophone to show it wasn't a weapon, laying it on the road a few feet away. Suddenly, an almighty explosion tore through the van, throwing all five musicians across the ditch into the undergrowth. The soldiers had not been soldiers at all – at least, not on duty. The fake army patrol were members of the paramilitary Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), although at least four of them were also serving with the UDR. Their intention was to plant a briefcase bomb under the driver's seat, timed to explode further down the road. The timer malfunctioned, instantly killing two members of the UVF's Mid-Ulster Brigade, Harris Boyle and Wesley Somerville. In the chaos, an order was given to shoot the fleeing musicians to eliminate witnesses. Lee lay still with his face in the grass, slowing his breathing and pretending to be dead – a trick he had learned from watching Vietnam movies – as he heard the murder of his friends taking place around him. First to die was McCoy, 32, shot in the back with a Luger pistol. Travers, 24, hit by a dumdum bullet, was seriously wounded. As Geraghty, 24, and O'Toole, 28, attempted to drag him to safety, they were caught by gunmen, pleading for their lives before being executed with Sterling submachine guns. O'Toole was shot 22 times, his long-haired head so badly mutilated that a doctor would later ask Lee if there was a girl in the band. Travers lay next to the body of McCoy and, like Lee, played dead. Once the attackers had apparently left the scene, Lee cautiously went to fetch help. 'The main road was the most horrific scene I've ever seen in my life,' he remembers. 'There were bits of bodies lying all over the place. It was horrendous.' The first passing vehicle, a truck, refused to give Lee a lift. Eventually, a young couple agreed to drive him to nearby Newry, where he alerted police. 'My hand was on the door handle just in case, ready to jump out, because I didn't trust anybody at that stage.' The killings stunned Ireland, and thousands lined the streets for the funerals of the murdered musicians. The Miami Showband had represented hope. Not only did their shows unite communities, but their membership was mixed: McCoy and Millar were Protestants, the rest were Catholics. Is it fanciful to suggest that they were targeted because someone, somewhere, resented this pan-sectarian fraternisation? Lee doesn't think that was the motive. 'We were the No 1 band, and this gang wanted maximum publicity. If that bomb had exploded when they intended, the Miami Showband would have been accused of carrying weapons for the IRA.' (Indeed, within 12 hours, the UVF accused the band of being bomb-traffickers, describing their killing as 'justifiable homicide'.) Lee agreed to testify at the trial in Belfast on condition he was helicoptered to and from the Irish border, with 24-hour protection. His life was threatened by relatives of the accused; he has, he says, been looking over his shoulder ever since. Lance corporal Thomas Crozier and Sgt James McDowell, both of the UDR, were sentenced to life in the Maze prison, as was John Somerville, brother of the deceased Wesley and a former soldier. (They were released under the Good Friday agreement.) Everything pointed towards collusion: covert collaboration between paramilitaries and the organs of the British state. Travers, Lee and Millar relaunched the Miami Showband with new members before the year was out, to familiar scenes of hysteria – but their hearts weren't in it. Travers felt they had become a circus, and that audiences had come to stare rather than dance; he left the band the following year. For Lee, now lead singer, it could never be the same without his lost band members. 'I looked around and there was no Fran, no Brian and no Tony, and I didn't enjoy that.' In 1982, tired of feeling that he and his family were in danger, Lee started a new life in South Africa, performing as a saxophonist and band leader on the Holiday Inn circuit. He remained there for two decades, only returning after his wife, Brenda, died. Travers, meanwhile, went on a tenacious, meticulous search for the truth, engaging with numerous investigations and initiatives. A 2019 Netflix documentary, Remastered: The Miami Showband Massacre, is centred around his dogged efforts. Through the years, the finger of suspicion has repeatedly pointed at two men: Capt Robert Nairac of the Grenadier guards (later executed by Republicans), and Robin 'The Jackal' Jackson, a former soldier from County Down and a key figure in the notorious Glenanne Gang, were believed to have planned the ambush. Both were named by British intelligence whistleblowers, and Ken Livingstone named Nairac as a conspirator in his maiden speech as an MP. In December 2017, 80 documents were released including a 1987 letter from the UVF to the then-taoiseach Charles Haughey on headed notepaper, which openly admitted collusion with MI5 in the attack. The evidence was now overwhelming. The historic activities of the Glenanne Gang, including the Miami Showband Massacre, fall under the purview of Operation Denton, due to report this year. The massacre hasn't faded from Irish memory. A sculpture commemorating the dead musicians, unveiled in 2007 by former taoiseach Bertie Ahern, stands on Parnell Square in Dublin. One person who apparently didn't remember, however, was Bono, who described the 2015 shootings at the Eagles of Death Metal show in Paris as 'the first direct attack on music'. He later apologised, and U2 incorporated a slide of the Miami Showband into their show. The survivors don't have the luxury of forgetting. The trauma has left an indelible mark. Travers was diagnosed, in later life, with enduring personality change. Lee has, he tells me, experienced profound survivor's guilt. In 2021, Lee was awarded £325,000 compensation, in a package he says was presented to survivors and families as a take-it-or-leave-it deal. He considers the sum to be 'peanuts, for 50 years of anger and pain'. More than financial recompense, he says what he hopes for, with up to five perpetrators still officially unaccounted for, is closure: 'Just tell the world the truth.' My Saxophone Saved My Life by Des Lee with Ken Murray is out now (Red Stripe Press)
