
Cliona Ward 'in her own bed' as family thanks 'humanity' from supporters
The Ward family has thanked supporters for their 'humanity and kindness' after their sister Cliona was released from a US immigration detention, where she had spent more than two weeks imprisoned.
Cliona's sister, Orla Holladay, said that her sibling was 'finally in her own bed' after an experience which had left her 'in shock' and 'traumatised'.
Ms Holladay said Cliona's release represents 'an absolute and beautiful success'.
In an update to the GoFundMe campaign set up to help with Cliona's legal bills, her sister said that all contributors 'have literally helped to save Cliona's life as she knows it and we love you for your humanity and kindness'.
The GoFundMe campaign had raised $47,755 at the time of writing, though Ms Holladay noted that the full cost of Cliona's legal representation — which amounted to separate legal counsel in both Seattle and her hometown of Santa Cruz — had yet to be determined.
She said that the GoFundMe campaign would remain open to allow Cliona to deliver a message of her own to her supporters before being shut down.
Post-conviction relief
Dublin-born Cliona, 54, a resident of the US for more than four decades, was taken into detention by American immigration and customs enforcement (ICE) officials on April 21 on foot of a number of decades-old criminal convictions which she believed had been expunged from her record.
Earlier this week, she was granted post-conviction relief within Santa Cruz. This cleared the way for those convictions to finally be overturned.
When Cliona appeared before a judge in Seattle on Wednesday morning, she was informed that the case against her had been dropped and that she would be released that afternoon.
Ms Holladay said that her sister had been 'very hungry' when she finally emerged from the Tacoma detention centre.
'It's an absolutely surreal experience,' she said of what her sister had been through. 'She is in shock, filled with emotions, traumatised, full of gratitude.'

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Irish Examiner
3 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Sunny Jacobs' death in Galway fire marks end of life shaped by wrongful conviction and resilience
As Sunny Jacobs sat in her tiny cell on death row waiting to be executed for a crime she insists she did not commit, she decided the only way she could find some peace was to pretend she was a monk in a cave, and not a prisoner in a cell. Every day, she would work on her mind, because that was all she had left that belonged to her. As a young mother of two, Sunny spent 17 years in prison and five in solidarity confinement on death row in the US before she was released — in 1992 — at the age of 45. In 1976, she had been accused of murdering two police officers who approached a car she was in with her partner, Jesse Tafero, her two young children, and an acquaintance, Walter Rhodes, who had broken parole conditions. As they approached the car, the police officers were fatally gunned down. Rhodes blamed the murders on Sunny and Jesse — who were tried and sentenced to death. Jesse Joseph Tafero was put to death in 1990 — a malfunctioning electric chair meant it took several attempts and 13 minutes to kill him. Flames reportedly shot out of his head during the horrifying execution. 'I still grieve for him' Sunny said in her soft American accent when we first met in 2008. 'It was so awful, really, all I could do was try to survive. I can't imagine it, I try not to.' Her parents, who were caring for her children Christina and Eric while she was in prison, were killed in a plane crash — Christina went into foster care and Eric, a teenager, learned to support himself. Sunny Jacobs had experienced the worst type of hell on earth. After she had found peace and tranquillity in the west of Ireland years later, where she lived in an idyllic community in Casla, Co Galway, with people who adored her, she expected to live out her life in peace. But sadly, that was not to be. Early last Tuesday, Sunny, who was 78, died along with her carer, Kevin Kelly, as a blaze ripped through her cottage. It was a tragic end to a remarkable life that was documented in books, a play, and a film, The Exonerated. All week, tributes have poured in for the woman who beat all the odds and had survived nearly two decades behind bars. Her RIP notice said 'We share the tragic news of Dr Sunny Jacob's tragic death at her home in Casla, Connemara, Co Galway on June 03, 2025. 'Sunny, a beloved member of the community as well as the wider international community where she was well-known for her humanitarian work and as an activist supporting and giving a voice to others. 'She is a huge loss, and will be heartbreakingly missed by her daughter Christina, son Eric, and grandchildren, Claudia, Jesse, and Bella. She was loved and will be missed by many, many close friends and family. Proceeded in death by her spouse Jesse Tafero, and her late husband and activist, Peter Pringle.' The first time Sunny Jacobs told me her story was in 2008 when I worked on a late-night talk show. She recalled how after Jessie's horrific execution, Walter Rhodes confessed he had fired the fatal shots, 'He confirmed what Jesse and I had said all that time, but it was too late for him, and I had lost so much, my children were not with me, my parents killed so horribly,' she said. What was I to do? I had nothing left, it was beyond traumatic, shocking, the worst, yes the worst, but the only thing the authorities didn't take was my mind. 'I had some control over my mind, but I had to learn to work with my mind and that is where I learned meditation, yoga, mindfulness and how important it was. 'It kept me alive, it really did, so I began working on my mental state, I pretended I was a monk praying in a cave and not a prisoner in a cell. All those dark days when you are alone in that cell, with no window and no light, you have your mind, you either lose your mind or use it to its full potential." By deciding she was not going to be a prisoner, Sunny believed she gave herself some hope. 'Outside of my cell and the prison, death row, the world, the death of those police officers, the death of Jesse, my parents' deaths, my kids being left without parents, that was the nightmare. 'I would allow myself to be really really angry for a few minutes, and then I began to believe I was a monk. I was in a cave and not a cell, I was not a prisoner, instead I was a monk. 'I'm not particularly religious, I just wanted to find peace and somehow this drove me to peace and my own mind saved me from hell. 'I know what happened was awful but why think about it now?' she said years later. 'I came here to Ireland to find peace and I did get peace. I am surrounded by a lovely community'. For years afterwards, Sunny and I spoke to each other on email and the phone. Every so often, she would pop up on chat, when online chat first went live. She would say things like: 'Hey again, this is like meeting on street corners, I'll talk to you real soon." She told me about that awful night in the US, and although she did not witness the events from inside the van where she was sleeping with her children, she has always said Walter Rhodes murdered the police officers. Having fled the scene in the police car, they were captured at a roadblock and arrested. Sunny Jacobs with her late partner Peter Pringle, who spent 14 years in prison for the murder of two gardaí, before being exonerated. Sunny Jacobs and Jesse Tafero were sentenced to death, while Rhodes was given three life sentences, despite being the only one to have tested positive for traces of gunpowder. Sunny, when freed, went on to live in Galway with her partner Peter Pringle, who led a parallel life to hers, having been wrongly imprisoned himself for 15 years. 'I think the universe brought us together as a gift because both of us had chosen the path of peace and healing, rather than revenge or retribution' she said. That path included forgiving those responsible for what happened to her, but she said it was not a selfless act. 'For me, forgiveness is a selfish act that I do for myself so that I don't have to live with hatred in my heart and I can fill those places with joy and love and happiness instead and it's just as simple as that.' Her ability to forgive always astounded me because she suffered so much in her life. I told her I would understand if she hated the world. But, "I never did", she said. My kids suffered of course, they lost their father and me. I was not dead, but they knew what happened to their dad, they would always find out. 'Christina went into foster care, and she believed we were guilty of those crimes. My son Eric had to make his own way in life' By the time Sunny was released from prison in 1992, her children were adults, her son was a dad, and she had to learn to live a new way. 'I was not the young mother anymore with my two tiny children' she said. 'I was in my 40s, and they were all grown up.' She met her future husband Peter Pringle through Amnesty International in Galway after her release. He had also been on death row in Ireland for the murder of gardaí John Morley and Henry Byrne in July 1980. He had spent 14 years in jail before being released, saying he had been exonerated and later wrote a book claiming he had been framed. They set up the Sunny Centre together and worked in mediation and trauma healing. Peter died on New Year's Eve at home in Glenicmurrin in 2023. Despite all the horrors in her life, Sunny found peace in Galway. She had an incredible emotional intelligence and an ability to see outside the trauma and terror — working on her mind so she could find contentment. 'When I realised they could not take my mind in prison, I was able to see a future, and moving here to Galway I found that future, and I found my peace.' Read More Garda Commissioner confirms review into Tina Satchwell case amid scrutiny of 2017 house search


Irish Examiner
11 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Michael Gaine murder suspect makes complaint to Garda Ombudsman over interviews by gardaí
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Irish Examiner
13 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Author interview: Fighting past the pain barrier to deliver a riveting mystery
I was keen to talk to Michelle McDonagh about her third novel — and not just because it's a great read. I've been thinking about her recently, because her first crime drama, published in 2020, centred on a murder suicide taking place on a farm — and the deaths occurred in the farm's slurry tank. With the tragic case of Mike Gaine currently in the news, Michelle is getting goosebumps. 'I wrote that after I'd heard of the tragic case of the Spence family in the North,' she tells me over Zoom. 'That was in 2012, where a father and two sons went into the tank after a dog, and the sister was the only one who survived. 'I remember being so horrified by it that it always stuck in my head.' Her first two novels were set in Galway, the county Michelle comes from, but she's switched to Co Cork for this third novel, and centres the story in Blarney — where she's lived for the past 18 years. But there's a Boston link too — and that city was Michelle's starting point. I've always wanted Boston to come into a book because I went there on a leave of absence. 'I worked for The Irish Voice which had just opened an office there,' she says, 'but came back after a few months because I'd fallen in love with a crazy Galway man.' She's speaking of her husband, Greg: 'I had to go halfway round the world to meet him, but it was a brilliant summer.' The book starts when an American tourist is found dead in Blarney. She's identified as Jessie De Marco, who travelled from Boston looking for the father she's never known. She's been searching via social media, and is found on the grounds of Blarney Castle. 'Rock close, where its set — and the Wishing Steps are so atmospheric,' says Michelle. 'The rocks go back to Druid times — and are 2,000 or 3,000 years old. 'It even smells ancient, and there's a rock shaped like a witch's profile. It's an incredible place. 'I was standing at the steps one day, and I thought, the American tourist could be found at the bottom of the steps.' A crime technician told me that a fall is the hardest murder to prove. 'I didn't know what had happened at the outset, or until I had my plot.' Hearing of the death, Jessie's estranged mum Dani arrives to identify her daughter's body. She recognises a respected local, Tadgh, claiming he's the father Jessie came to find. Convinced someone killed Jessie, she starts a media-fuelled frenzy of an investigation, which sees everyone taking sides. As the plot weaves and twists, it appears that there are many people who might conceivably have caused the girl's death — certainly they have something to hide. The plot covers many issues: Grooming; childhood trauma; good and bad mothers; how far would you go to protect your child? Which was the most important to Michelle? 'It's in the title, Some of This is True,' says Michelle. 'It's about who is telling the truth here and what is the truth? 'Your memory can change your perception of what actually did happen; did that person mean what they said? Dani and Tadgh have different versions of events, but they both start to question their versions. Could Tadgh have done something that Dani misconstrues?' Switching from journalism to being an author A former journalist with the Connacht Tribune, then The Irish Times, Michelle started writing her debut during a Faber course she took in lockdown. How did she find the switch from journalism to author? 'Writing a novel is totally different,' she says. 'Before I sent my first book out, I got a UK editor to look at it, and she said: 'When you're writing, leave your journalist outside the room, and when you're editing, let the journalist come back.' 'When you're writing a news piece, you want to get as much information and facts into it as you can, and I was going down all these rabbit holes, and dumping all the information in. 'She said:'No! People don't want to read all that stuff. They want to know what happens next.'' Although Michelle plots quite thoroughly and has photos of her setting pinned around her office walls as she types — she doesn't stick rigidly to it. 'The plot changes along the way, and changes further when I get my editorial notes,' she says. 'Pacing is always an issue. I'm too slow at the beginning and put everything into the end. 'It's a matter of moving things around and bringing some things up to the front. 'I usually cry for a week when I get the notes, and think, I can never do this! But when you start, it is never as bad.' For the record, Some of This is True is perfectly paced. I, literally, could not put the book down. I loved the complete picture of a contemporary small town that Michelle presents; we see the hero-worship afforded to GAA coaches and stars; we're shown right-wing protestors and social media trolling. It's a heady mix. Michelle says she's nervous about this book, and not just because it's the first she's set outside Galway. She's suffered from chronic pain for the past six years, and recently it's been particularly severe. I was in so much pain writing this book, that I missed my deadline and had to ask for an extension. 'That's the last thing you want, as a journalist,' she says. 'I've seen nearly 20 consultants across a range of specialities. 'I've had numerous surgeries and bits removed, and nobody has been able to find a cause for the pain. It's constant. Painkillers don't work. I can't sleep. 'I'm so drained that I can't stand, and sitting is agony. My GP said all he could suggest was CBT [cognitive behavioural therapy], and that I learn to live with it.' Recently, Michelle met a brilliant physiotherapist, who, diagnosing 'The Hidden Prankster' — a problem with a deep-seated muscle — believes he can help her regain equilibrium. He has started working with her, and she feels a great sense of hope. As well as this, Michelle suffers from anxiety — a condition she passes on to a character in each of her books. How does she gain a semblance of calm? 'It's simple things,' she says. 'It's reading. It's being around my family [Michelle has three children, Lucy, Jake, and Kiana]. 'It's being around my dog, Brody, and my daughters have a pony stabled on a nearby farm. Sitting there, surrounded by nature is sustaining. Female friends are massive, and my sister is my best friend. 'I do a podcast, Natter, with Kate Durant. She energises me. She's the glass half full, and I never got the glass in the first place.' Michelle McDonagh hosts the 'Natter' podcast with Kate Durrant: 'She energises me. She's the glass half full, and I never got the glass in the first place.' Three books in, is being a published author all Michelle believed it would be? 'When you dream about something for so long, you think, when you've got it, you will be a different person,' she says. 'You'll never have anxiety or low mood, but you're the same person. My dream was to go into a bookshop and see my book on the shelf. 'I can do that now. My name is there, but its surreal. It doesn't even feel like it's me.' The best part, she says, is meeting other authors: 'And particularly crime writers. We have a WhatsApp group, and from the beginning, they've been so welcoming. 'And it's not just crime writers. I've grown up reading people like Patricia Scanlan and Sheila O'Flanagan, and amazing writers like that have reached out the hand, and said: 'Come on in. Join our group.''