George Gibney pictured in 2019. Mark Horgan
The Morning Lead
For the complainants in the case, and those who first made allegations against the former swimming coach in the 1990s, it was clear that this day was a long time coming.
AT AROUND 11.30am on Monday, all those seated on the wooden benches of Court 9 at the Criminal Courts of Justice turned their heads left as a wood-panelled door opened and a man was wheeled into the room.
That man was George Gibney, once a celebrated swimming coach who took two Irish teams to the Olympic Games in the 1980s and earned a celebrity-like status as a result in the country at the time.
Now 78 years old, he was clad in the same red jacket and grey tracksuit bottoms that he had worn for the majority of his two-week trial in July. The same black glasses on his face. His hands clasped. His mouth chewing incessantly due to a lack of false teeth.
No one in the room – made to feel smaller by the sheer number of people sitting and standing in it – was thinking of his sporting achievements when they laid eyes on him.
Rather, what was on everyone’s mind were the crimes of which he was found guilty three months ago: 39 counts of indecent assault and one count of attempted rape.
These offences were committed against four young girls in the 1970s and 1980s. Gibney was their swimming coach. They were aged between eight and 15 at the time. They are now in their 60s.
All those present rose as Mr Justice Micheál O’Higgins took his seat and began to read the sentence that he intended to impose on Gibney, noting very clearly that it reflected “the gravity of his offending, not his reputation”.
He noted that Gibney had achieved recognition as a swimming coach of renown, but added: “From those heights he has now fallen, and his reputation now lies in tatters.”
Save for the sound of journalists typing furiously on laptops or scribbling in a notebook and the odd cough here and there, the room was largely silent as the judge went through the evidence of the horrific abuse Gibney had committed against the four complainants that was heard during the trial.
It took place in his car. In a bedroom in his home. In one of the complainant’s bedrooms. In the changing rooms at swim training. In his office adjacent to the pool. Gibney was brazen, calculating and shameless.
Two of the women were present in court, while two others watched the proceedings via video link.
Alongside the complainants, family members and journalists also sat Tric Kearney, Ber Carley and Chalkie White. They had been swimmers, Gibney had been their coach, but this was not their court case.
Their case ended before it even began in the 1990s, when they were among a group of swimmers to contact gardaí alleging that Gibney had abused them. In April 1993, he was charged with 27 counts of indecent assault and unlawful carnal knowledge of minors dating as far back as 1967.
But he took a judicial review, arguing that the length of time since the alleged offences meant it could prejudice his right to a fair trial, that the dates of the alleged offences were not specific enough and that he could not hope to find witnesses to establish an alibi.
He was successful. The case collapsed, and Gibney fled to the United States via Scotland.
Kearney, Carley and White never had their own day in court. For them, this was it. They wanted to be there, not only to support the other complainants, but to face the man they had reported to gardaí nearly 35 years ago, and to see justice being done.
As he continued to outline his sentence, Mr Justice O’Higgins repeated several times that Gibney’s abuse formed part of “a wider pattern of systemic offending” over a lengthy period of time.
He was, of course, referring to the case in front of him that he oversaw during a two-week trial in July. But for those squeezed together on those wooden benches, they may have held a deeper, personal meeting. There was a palpable sense that this sentence would serve as a form of closure for those who never got to read out a victim impact statement.
When the judge noted while outlining the mitigating factors in the case that Gibney had no previous convictions, a few sighs emitted from near the back of the court. At least one person could be heard taking short breaths in through their nose, trying to hold back tears.
Kearney, Carley and White all spoke to Mark Horgan for the podcast ‘Where Is George Gibney?’, which was released in 2020. It is a piece of media that was instrumental in bringing the former swimming coach back into the spotlight after he had been out of the country for so long, living as a free man.
Louise Kennedy also spoke to the podcast, as did her mother Lorraine Kennedy. Lorraine was one of those swimmers who went to gardaí in the 1990s alleging that Gibney had abused her when she was a child. She died seven years ago.
Louise brought a photograph of her mother with her to court. In it, she can be seen in a celebratory mood, her face lit up with laughter. “I really don’t think she ever saw this day coming,” she told The Journal.
She would not have been alone in thinking that.
But the strength and bravery of the four complainants at the centre of this case made the possibility of Gibney facing justice a reality. They spoke to gardaí and enabled them to bring a new case against the former swimming coach. Their evidence saw him extradited from the US last year. They told their stories in court. The jury believed them.
After Mr Justice O’Higgins announced that he would set a headline sentence of 12 years for the attempted rape, the benches released a collective breath. The sound of relief.
When the judge said that Gibney would serve a total of 15 years and six months in prison, the barrier broke and there was no holding back the emotion. Tears flowed. Arms went around shoulders. Hands were held. The long journey had, at last, concluded.
Gibney’s expression was vacant, as it had been for the majority of his trial. It remained unchanged when the judge described him as a “manipulative predator”, when the evidence of the monstrous crimes he had committed were read aloud, and when he was finally taken away by the prison officers to begin his sentence.
The emotional scenes continued after one of the complainants, Orla Poole, waived her right to anonymity and gave a statement on the steps outside the building, urging other survivors to come forward.
Family members of the respective complainants and those from the 1990s chatted and hugged each other. Laughter was shared. Photos were taken together.
Louise Kennedy said the experience was far more emotional than she thought it was going to be. “But I know my mam would have absolutely been here, so if she can’t, I will,” she said.
“Mam would’ve been happy with it. She would’ve been celebrating.”
Reading from a statement that he had prepared, Chalkie White told The Journal it was “the first day throughout this decades-long trauma where we can feel some sense of non-negative emotion”.
He acknowledged the courage of the women who came forward after listening to the podcast on Gibney and thanked them for their bravery, saying that their words and actions “have been critical to where we are today”.
“To fellow fighters against this monster, today is the end of this phase of the saga and the beginning of a new phase approaches, one that will have its ups and downs,” he said.
“We will all deal with this in our own ways, but we’ll always be united through our past experience with this vermin. You are all strong and beautiful people, but you will never be alone. Thank you for helping me get through all of this.”
White concluded his statement by saying: “We now know the answer to Mark Horgan’s podcast, Where Is George Gibney? The convicted paedophile is in an Irish prison, serving over 15 years.”