Family want to know why UVF murdered Protestant
Seamus McKinney, Irish News10 August 2005
Thirty-two years ago Henry Cunningham, a 16-year-old Presbyterian from Co Donegal, was shot dead by the UVF as he travelled home from work in Belfast. Within three weeks of his murder, it appears that his case was closed and the family were never contacted again by the RUC. Seamus McKinney meets a family who feel they have been forgotten. As the family of Co Donegal teenager Henry Cunningham brought his body home from Massereene hospital in Antrim on August 10 1973 they were accompanied from Derry by a mystery motorcyclist.
Henry Cunningham (16) was the 857th victim of the Troubles and the fifth person from Co Donegal to die when he was shot dead by the UVF on the M2 on the evening of August 9 1973. From Carndonagh, he was travelling home from a day's work in Glengormley when the van he was in with three of his brothers and his brother-in-law was ambushed at Dunwilly Bridge, near Templepatrick, on the M2.
That night the five other men in the Co Donegal registered van gave statements to the RUC in Antrim. It was the only time in 32 years that any member of the RUC, the Garda, the British or Irish governments ever spoke to the Cunninghams about Henry's death.
Even more astonishing is the fact that the inquest into his murder took place at Antrim Town Hall just three weeks after the shooting. A spokesman for Belfast Coroner's court said the current average time between murder and inquest - if there are no arrests - is eight to 12 months. Another thing marked the murder out at a time of daily slaughter, Henry Cunningham was a Presbyterian murdered by loyalists. According to the Pat Finucane human rights' centre (PFC) the three-week gap between murder and inquest demonstrated that Henry's murder had a "zero investigation".
PFC spokesman Paul O'Connor, who is now handling the Cunningham's case, said: "Henry Cunningham's case was closed just three weeks after he was murdered." Herbie Cunningham was driving the Bedford van on the night his younger brother was murdered. His other brother Robbie, who was due to play with a band that night, was having a sleep in the back seat. That was how Henry, the youngster of the group, got to sit in the front passenger seat. The Cunninghams from Collon Hill in Carndonagh had been working with a northern company in Creggan and Shantallow in Derry. In the early 1970s they had no problems going into what were essentially no-go areas. Robbie Cunningham recalls: "We were working in the Creggan and the IRA were training just yards from us. We just went on working." A hard working family of eight boys and five girls, the Cunninghams decided to follow the firm to Glengormley when work dried up in Derry. That was why for three months they made the daily round trip of approximately 200 miles - to get work. Herbie recalls the evening of Henry's murder vividly. It was about 6pm when they pulled onto the M2. "We must have worked on later until about half past five that time. It always was the case who was going to get the front seat. I saw the three boys, they were on the flyover. "It was coming up to the end of the motorway and they started shooting. They must have seen the Donegal registration on the van. We never even thought about religion or politics. We were always a mixed crowd in the van. "I saw the three gunmen firing at me, the flames flying out of the guns and them hitting the van. "He [Henry] said to me 'I'm hit' and he just slumped over. I think he took a minute to die, it was probably the nerves keeping him alive."
At his inquest it was revealed that Henry was struck by two bullets, one in the leg with the fatal shot going through his heart. In shock, Herbie drove on. Police told him that night he drove three miles. They stopped and ran through fields to get a house where an off duty nurse came to their aid - but Henry was already dead. Another man, Packie Doherty from Carndonagh, was also hit by a bullet (14 of the 33 bullets fired struck the van). Packie spent six weeks in hospital but recovered. "We were roaring and crying, we were only young, we thought they were going to come to finish us off," Herbie recalls.
The Cunningham brothers said police soon arrived. They were brought to Antrim RUC station where they gave statements and they were allowed to go home. That was the last time the RUC spoke to them about the case. Robbie remembers a highly unusual incident the following day as they brought Henry home through Derry. "I was driving behind the hearse on the way down and my father was along with me when we came to the army check point at Culmore [a permanent border checkpoint]," he said. "This motorbike was sitting at the checkpoint and as soon as the hearse went past it jammed in between the hearse and my car. "And he continued from the checkpoint, all the way [approximately 20 miles] right through Carn up to about 200 yards from our house on the Ballyliffin Road. He sat between us. "Maybe it was an off duty RUC man or it could have been one of the UVF. How did he sit at the checkpoint and no-one say anything. You or me couldn't sit there without the army saying why are you sitting there."
When he got to within 200 yards of the family home, the motorcyclist got off his bike and stood watching the funeral cortege as it went into the house before speeding off. In the ensuing years the Cunningham family heard nothing more about the case other than at the inquest and compensation hearing. Like countless families, Henry's death bit deep into the Cunningham family. His father, John, could never understand and often asked why would anybody shoot his son. He died in 1980.
It rankles the brothers that even the Irish government and the Presbyterian moderator failed to contact them, never mind the police. "Even if he [the moderator] had sent a letter to sympathise with my mother and father," Herbie said.
In 1999, they were working on St Columba's church in Long Tower in Derry when someone told them that a visiting priest had a copy of a new book which they should look at. In the book, Lost Lives loyalist sources claimed the UVF was responsible for Henry's murder. They contacted the PFC who later got in touch with the new historical inquiries branch of the PSNI which was established earlier this year to look into unsolved murders. They've been told their case may be examined later this year. When asked if the RUC or PSNI had ever contacted the Cunningham family since the night the statements were taken a police spokesman said: "The police service has agreed to review all unsolved murders under the newly established historic enquiry team."
What compounds Robbie and Herbie's grief and pain and what is driving them to seek answers is the fact that Henry was forgotten by the state and police forces just three weeks after he was murdered. Herbie, who now suffers from MS, wants to sit down with the men who murdered his brother and ask them two questions: "Whey did you kill my brother and what good did it do?" He said: "You take the girls who lost their brother in Belfast [the McCartney family], the Irish government went out of their way and bent over backways to help them. "They are Northern Ireland people. What did they [the Irish government] ever do for us? I have nothing against the McCartney girls but the government did nothing for us." He believes that their family has been "swept under the carpet". Robbie is a lot angrier. He has no time for the Irish or British governments.
"There's more than one to go to jail, there's three of them that day. If the UVF has any evidence to say they were involved, let them spit it out," he said. Robbie does not want to meet the killers although Herbie wants to look them in the eye.No matter what comes out of their drive for the truth, the brothers believe that Henry's killers will never be caught. They believe the security forces were involved and that the mystery motorcyclist is proof of that. They also believe the peace process will ensure that Henry will never have justice. "They're bowing now hand over fist for them, both paramilitary sides. Why are they getting glory now," Robbie said. Herbie and Robbie are two very determined men. The pain and grief of the murder and the way their brother's life was written off is driving them. They believe they will get the truth.
Herbie recalls the day he was told he had MS 20 years ago. "My mother was sitting crying and I was sitting crying and that's the God's truth. She said to me what you went through that day, the day Henry was killed is no help to what you're going through. "She said it mightn't happen in my time but something will come off it before your day because murder's a thing that never lies. "Murder's a thing always come to light. I never thought no more about that until this year or more since we started chatting about it."