courtroom ireland

Gavin O'Reilly takes the stand.
He is a handsome, striking, figure of a man with piercing blue eyes and a shock of golden hair.
There is an odd nobility about him which is not lost on the packed courtroom.
One thinks immediately of some great storybook hero of old.
A swashbuckler.
Or a saint maybe.
A sense of morality.
Sublime personal charm.
An integrity beyond compromise.
Here is a lover of life.
But no less a lover of spiritual values
He exudes an aura of otherworldly glamour.
A strong man, he always but always, speaks in gentle tones.
He gives the impression of one who in spite of endless provocations is still struggling to believe that there is good in everyone.
He tells the Judge: "This has all been very trying for me. My cat isn't even called Tiddles. And my mistresses have up to now been able to pretend to be unaware of each other. As for BMW's. I wouldn't be seen dead in a BMW. Neither would my mistresses or my cat Tiddles or my wives or my progeny or my accomplices, I mean business associates, for that matter. And cocaine. Cocaine is so passe. Me and my friends use high grade crystal meth. The Heelers Diaries has hurt us deeply."