In 1923 the Dublin Evening Telegraph ran an excellent ‘Famous Irish Trials’ series. No. 8 in the series, published on 14 April 1923, involved two apparently unconnected murders linked by the mysterious figure of teenager John Delahunt. Like many murky characters of the period, Delahunt had connections to the infamous spy network in Dublin Castle…

“On the morning of Sunday, the 27th of February, 1841, the police constable on duty in the vicinity of Orwell Bridge, discovered the dead body of an Italian organ grinder. The head was almost severed from the trunk, and there were other indications that the deceased had met his end quickly and surely. The organ by which he gained a livelihood lay by his side, but, curiously enough, there were no signs of a struggle having taken place, nor did his assailants leave any clue to their identity.

An inquest was held the following morning at the police barracks in Rathfarnham, and as the tragic occurrence had caused a great sensation in the city, the little village was thronged by a vast concourse of persons drawn thither by the rumours that had been circulated. It was said that no fewer than eight Italians had been placed under arrest, and a reward of £100 had produced the usual crop of witnesses whose testimony had no bearing whatsoever on the case.

It was stated that the deceased was one Dominico Garlibardo, a young Italian organ-grinder, a native of Parma, who had come to Dublin just eighteen months before. He was in the habit of making a daily round in several parts of the city and its environs, carrying his organ on his back, and giving entertainment or annoyance to the inhabitants. Garlibardo was a man of very abstemious habits, and at the time of his death was said to have succeeded in saving the sum of £10 or £12. He was in the habit of carrying this money in a leathern wallet, and when his body was found the money was missing. Gossip for once was correct in saying that eight Italians had been arrested on the suspicion of having caused the death of their compatriot; but when these men were examined, and their movements on the night of the crime inquired into, it was found that no case could be made against them, and the Coroner ordered that they be instantly released.

A sensation was provided on the third day of the inquest when a tinker named Cooney was brought up. This man stated that on the day of the murder he was at his home in Rathfarnham from 4 o’clock in the afternoon until 10 o’clock that night, but a witness swore that he spoke to him at Rathfarnham Bridge at about 8 o’clock on the evening in question. A dairyman who resided in Dundrum was the principal witness against the tinker. He gave his evidence somewhat grudgingly, but admitted that he had met on the road two men—one of whom closely resembled the prisoner, and further off he had seen a woman seated on the ground beside a man who was lying on the roadside at the place where deceased’s body was found later. Other witnesses corroborated the dairyman, and there appeared to be little doubt that both Cooney and his wife were in the vicinity when the crime was committed. The inquest lasted eight days, and a large number of witnesses were placed under examination. The solicitor for the defence brought forward witnesses who swore that they had not lost sight of Cooney and his wife during the whole of the day of the murder. One man said that Cooney was in his house all day until 10 o’clock, at which hour he left to go to a wake.

The solicitor for the prisoners then declared that he would offer no further evidence at that stage, as a vast quantity of the evidence admitted was illegal. Some sharp exchanges took place between the coroner and the solicitor at this point, and the former threatened to commit the legal luminary for contempt. This menace, however, does not appear to have frightened the solicitor, for we find that he continued to strongly advise his clients against producing further evidence. The jury retired to consider their verdict, and in due time found that the deceased, Dominico Galibardo, was murdered, and that strong suspicion attached to Richard Cooney, “and Mary Cooney (called his wife) was present aiding and abetting, and that a man unknown was suspected to be present.”

On the 13th of June, 1841, the Cooneys were brought for trial at the City and County Commission. Baron Pennefather and Judge Ball were on the Bench, and the Court was densely packed.

The case for prosecution was opened by Mr. Monaghan, who stated that a witness would be produced who would swear that he saw the prisoners, with a third party, committing the crime. It appeared from the learned counsel’s address that this witness came forward under circumstances that would require the most particular consideration of the jury. At the inquest this witness gave evidence to show that he had passed by the place at the time the murder was committed, but he did not then give evidence that he then saw the murder being done.

Patrick Bryan, the witness alluded to, then stepped into the witness-box, and gave evidence as follows:—”As I walked along the Dodder road, I saw Richard Cooney. I saw him striving to get over Lord Ely’s demesne wall. Heard the woman cry, ‘We are all taken.’ Where I saw Cooney was about six yards from where the body lay on the ground. When Mary Cooney shouted she was leaning over the body. There was another man present, who wore a cap and jacket. When Cooney was trying to get over the wall he had a hammer and chisel in his hand. Mary Cooney had a knife in her hand. She stooped over the body so that I could not see her face. I did not know the third man.”

Now, the foregoing evidence looked pretty conclusive, but on cross-examination the witness began to contradict himself, grew nervous, and finally broke down. The cross-examination, conducted by Mr. J. A. Curran, was as follows:—

Mr. Curran—Come, now, on your solemn oath, did you tell in Fanning’s public-house that it was Rule, the tinker, and his wife you saw?

Witness—I did.

Why did you not tell them that you saw the murder? I was afraid—I did not like to say so to them.

Come, on your oath, did you see the murder? The murder?

Aye, the murder is out. I repeat, did you see it? No answer.

You must answer my question, sir—did you see the murder done?

The witness then hesitated for a considerable time, and finally, with an effort, replied, “No, I did not.”

Then, why did you say just now that you did not like to tell them that you saw the murder? No answer.

Did you swear that you saw Cooney strike the Italian on the head with a hammer? No answer.

You must answer me, sir—Did you swear that? I did.

And was it true or false? It was false.

The witness was then taken into custody and was later punished for perjury.

After the discrediting of the chief Crown witness, it was generally conceded that the case against Cooney and his wife had completely broken down, and it was submitted by Mr. Curran that there was no case to go before a jury. Baron Pennefather, however, decided that other witnesses should be called. The medical evidence called to prove that there were stains of human blood on Cooney’s clothes proved a rather novel sensation. The medical expert, Dr. Apjohn, said that it was a method invented by a French scientist some time before. It depended on the sense of smell, the blood of an ox evolving a peculiar smell, the blood of a pig a different one, while human blood had a smell of its own. The doctor said that he did not rely upon this test as perfect evidence, and the Court refused to accept it.

There was no evidence tendered for the prisoner, and Baron Pennefather’s charge was much in his favour. He said that Bryan’s evidence was worthless, and he pointed out several circumstances favourable to the prisoner. The jury returned to Court after an absence of thirty-five minutes with a verdict of “Not guilty.” The accused were discharged in due course, and it seemed as if the murder of the young Italian would soon pass into the limbo of forgotten things. This was not to be, however, for just on the eve of Christmas the same year, the Dublin public were horrified by the news of a particularly cruel murder which occurred at the rere of Pembroke road, and, curiously enough, the person arrested for this crime had been identified with the murder at Rathfarnham in the earlier part of the year.

The body of a barefooted little boy, named Maguire, was discovered about six o’clock in the evening of December 21st, in a lane at the rere of Pembroke road, and about an hour later a man named Delahunt called to the Police Headquarters in the Castle, and reported that he had witnessed the murder of a child in Pembroke lane. He described in a most minute manner the appearance of the woman who had accompanied the child, and declared that he could identify her. He volunteered to bring the police to the spot where the body was, but the police becoming suspicious placed him under arrest. At the inquest ample testimony was given on which to place Mr. Delahunt in the dock, and eventually the unhappy man was tried in the old Courthouse in Green street.

The little boy Maguire lived in Plunkett street with his mother, and witnesses proved that the prisoner came up to him while he was playing with some companions, and took him away. He next turned up with the child at his brother’s house in Britain street, and subsequently was seen in a public-house in Capel street. Later the prisoner’s sister met them in Baggot street, and the prisoner stated that he had found the child wandering about, and was taking him home to his parents. It was after six o’clock when Delahunt turned up at his father’s house without the child, and some days later a knife was found near the scene of the crime which witnesses proved had been in Delahunt’s possession at the time he called to Britain street with the boy Maguire.

The evidence in this case was very conclusive, and no witnesses were called for the defence. Now, it transpired that Delahunt was a professional witness for the Crown. He had offered to give evidence against Cooney and his wife in the Rathfarnham murder case, but was not called. He also appeared in an assault case which was tried in July, 1841. The jury found him “Guilty,” and he was hanged in front of Kilmainham Jail.

In a confession which he wrote shortly before his execution, Delahunt said that he swore against Cooney and his wife in the hope of gaining a reward from the Castle, and that he murdered the child, Thomas, in the hope that he could fix the murder on some innocent person, and that he would receive a reward from the authorities. The Dublin public strongly suspected that the wretched Delahunt had murdered the Italian, but he made no reference to having committed this crime in his confession, and the Rathfarnham murder has since remained one of Dublin’s unsolved mysteries.“

The location where the body of Thomas Maguire was found was immediately behind what is now the former Baggot Street Hospital, where the old castle of Baggot Rath once stood. An image of the location where Garlibardo’s body was found can be seen at the start of this post.

In August 1841, in between Garlibardo’s death and the killing of Maguire, Delahunt had given evidence for the prosecution in a criminal case against rioting coal porters, the case against the accused being dropped after a lengthy cross-examination by John Ayde Curran in the following terms:

“I suppose that the prisoners are coal-porters? I do not know of what trade they are.

What brought you up stairs along with the five persons you speak of? I went up with them to see them take the gentleman out; I went with them to many other places as well as there; it was nothing else but to see the fun that brought me there.

On your oath what it was not to give information that you went there? I do not know.

Question repeated? No, it was not; I often went to see such fun.

You would not be an informer? I do not know whether I would or not; but I would not be an informer for money (a laugh); it was when I heard that the gentleman was very ill that I gave my informations; it was on this day fortnight that I gave my informations, when I told the policeman; I saw the reward, but I did not give my informations directly after that; my father is a carpenter; he lives in Westmorland-row, Pembroke-road; I lived with him, and lately with my uncle, a butcher in Castle Market.

What is his name? (Witness laughed.) What do you laugh at? Because my uncle voted for West and Grogan (sensation); I worked with my father in Tighe-street; I do not always work with him; I sometimes take a walk in gardens and shrubberies at night, but not late at night.”

“You have seen murders committed? I saw one.

Did you ever see a robbery? Yes; I saw a robbery committed by a pickpocket, that was all I ever saw; I saw pockets picked frequently, and one no longer back than Sunday morning last; I never picked a pocket myself.

Were you ever in gaol? I was; my brother got me in there. What for? For keeping a clock that was stolen. I was convicted for it, but it was falsely? Oh, of course, we all know that (a laugh).

Was anything ever said to you about tools? Oh, they were my father’s tools; took them away with me, but I told my mother of it (a laugh). Were you ever in custody at a place called the Cock, in Kevin street? Yes; but that was about the tools.

Where was the murder you saw? At Rathfarnham—that of the Italian boy; Cooney and his wife were the murderers; I swore informations against them in the Castle-yard; I swore that I was taking a walk at the time in the woods in Lord Ely’s demesne.  I was standing at the other side of the river, behind a mud wall, I distinctly saw the blows given, and the blood flowing; I was sure it was Cooney and his wife who did it; I told that history about two months afterwards; I first told it to a policeman, at Merrion row; love of justice and fear made me tell it; I did not want the reward; 100l. was offered.

On your oath, what brought you into Lord Ely’s demesne? To take a walk in it, for I heard it was haunted (laughter); I did not give any alarm in the neighbourhood that I had seen the man’s throat cut; I did not tell even my father or mother of it; I never breathed a word about it for two months afterwards; I often saw the bills up, offering the reward, before I gave the informations; the clothes I have now on I got at the Castle.

How many oaths have you taken in the course of your life? Have you sworn twenty? No. Ten? No, not ten all out; I was never examined in Cooney’s case here, but I was before the grand jury; I know a good many pickpockets by eyesight, but I never made any acquaintance with them (a laugh); if the crown now put me on the table as a witness against Cooney I would take the reward if I got it.”

Less than six months later, Curran, the leading defence counsel of the day, was to find himself representing Delahunt at his subsequent trial for the murder of Thomas Maguire.

Interesting additional facts appearing in other newspaper reports:

• The entire Delahunt family was reputed to be in the pay of the Castle
• Thomas Maguire lived very close to the Castle.
• Maguire was last seen by his friends leaving the place where they were playing, in the company of a man who called him by his name
• According to Delahunt’s sister-in-law, Delahunt told her that he was taking Maguire home ‘to Buckingham Street’ at the request of a police officer in the Castle (Maguire did not live in Buckingham Street).
• No portraits could be obtained of Delahunt, as he held a handkerchief over the bottom part of his face during the entire trial; his head, however, was on display in Dublin for some time afterwards, for examination by phrenologists.
• The site of Maguire’s killing was in Eastmoreland Lane, at the back of what is now Baggot Street hospital and originally the site of the famous Baggot Rath castle.
• There is a story of a ‘Ghost Boy’ reputed to haunt one of the gates of Rathfarnham Castle after his murder by a Romany – perhaps Garlibardo?

We may never know the full story of what really happened in respect of either crime, but the inquest and trial reports give a great insight into ordinary Dublin life of the time. Hoping to share them over the next couple of weeks.

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