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Posts: 1,601
Reply with quote  #886 

 Nevertheless, it is clear that the 'parole deal' is extortionate. It attempts to make prisoners conform not only in physical form, but also in mind. If such were done in an attempt to stop prisoners having antisocial attitudes and opinions, it might be condoned. However, it is used here to make the prisoner accept a particular version of history even if it is at total variance to what the prisoner knows was the truth, or even what the Court of Appeal may ultimately decide was the truth.

Judge yourself before judging others.

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Reply with quote  #887 

Free Kevin O'Neill


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Reply with quote  #888 
Kevin And I Have Been Saying This From 1986
This Year Could Be Your Year
Happy New Year Mate

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Reply with quote  #889 

Kevin's Prison Number Has Been Changed From B80521

To The Following


All Letters & Cards Of Solidarity Are Most Welcome

Kevin O'Neill
Gallow Field Road
Market Harborough
LE16 7RP



In Solidarity


And All At

Third Secret Foundation   


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Reply with quote  #890 

Free kevin


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Reply with quote  #891 
Cheers Frankie

Free Kevin O'Neill


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Reply with quote  #892 
Kevin's Cousin Was Found Dead
In Gleniffer Braes In A Burnt Out Car
Fireman Raced To The Scene And
Were Shocked, Finding Someone Inside
I Only Spoke To Him Two Weeks Ago

Rest In Peace 'Fee
You'll Never Walk Alone  


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Reply with quote  #893 

Cheers Frankie

Anyone wanting details about last weeks
questions and answers with Paddy Hill & John McManus
send us a private message
Kevin O'Neill Is An Innocent Man
We Demand

The TRUTH is out there...........

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Reply with quote  #894 

Free Kevin O'Neill


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Reply with quote  #895 



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Reply with quote  #896 
Extract From Kevin's ' Remaining Human '


So there stood I, twenty-one years old, caged for life. Never will I accept this crime against my name, surely when they realize the truth they will set me free? How naive my mind was then as I stood in a cell within the hospital wing on suicidal watch, for it would not do if one newly sentenced were to dispose of oneself, thus cheating the cut­throats of justice and their retribution.

Then I had a real problem with the mere sight of authority, I thought them offensive to my sight, thus acted as such, I thought it an offense to acknowledge my name in case they thought me familiar. I totally and utterly went against this authority, I should not be here to be oppressed nor addressed by figures of suspicion. I was lost in a wail of protest lamenting my tale of grief to letters and letters, and more letters. Authority then began punishing me by placing me on charges, or G.O.A.D.: Good order and discipline:

I would not and still do not to this day take any interest in the conditions of the cells I am entombed within. To me a cell is a shell, cold and bleak, not somewhere one makes comfortable, others did, but not I, I could not, thus my cell started to breed contention and for me became a statement of my innocence. "I will endure," that was freedom alight with warmth and joy. But then I was far from comfortable, lost was I in a mist of isolation, but content and secure in the strength of my protestation.

I would take great comfort in attending mass on a Sunday and eventually with the help of a great man, Father Hugh Sinclair, began to take a more stable approach in my protestations. I started attending the chapel a few times a week and started playing in the choir, no, I was not perceiving myself as an angel. It was just silent warmth that comforted me in many ways that was needed at that time. This man with the help of one of the Birmingham 6 sort of took me under their wing and began changing my approach, trying to scale my wildness down a bit, for I fully admit I was wild in my insistence of innocence, but I knew no other way. I told them I was innocent, but they listened not, rather they used it against me, thus authority was blaming me, labeling me a liar.

I began to delve deeper into art as for me it was an experience of enlightening, a means to express myself in ways words or speech could not do. I used mostly prison sheets as canvas. To me it was a symbolic thing that strengthened my resolve to fight on.

Bang the door would bust open, letting in a black mist of uniforms with their rubber boots and plastic helmets, down the segregation I would be dragged and rolled then restrained in a cell awaiting the Governors adjudication, more punishment. Often then I would write out my explanation on the back of the charge sheet with a bit of watered down jobby. I never told them at first, rather must confess it a wee victory watching the Governor holding the charge sheet with my filth between his fingers. I know it was an abnormal thing to do, but then I thought it perfectly acceptable. I just made sure I never put my self in a position where I would have to shake his or her hand, which never occurred being the rascal I was our hands were off limit to civility.


Poor Father Hugh would always come down and see me, regardless of what I may have done; he was a great strength to me, a true man of God.

About this time I was told that I would have to serve at least 30 years and not to think I will ever be released. This I really found hard to come to terms with, in reality it blew my mind and sent me into a spin that lasted so many years. 30 years, I just could not comprehend such a length of time. A few months later I was made a Category A prisoner. I think looking back it was this more than anything that set the path that I traveled. I was never given a chance whatsoever. As far as I could see I was being buried alive for this crime I stand Innocent off. It is hard to actually put into words just how this effected me, only that it did, very deeply at that.

The system then was more intent in breaking my will than trying to listen to what I was trying to get across. I really do not think they knew how to deal with a person who was persistently protesting his innocence. I would not shut up about it and voiced my concerns from the moment of waking up to falling into slumber at the death of night.

I began to hear authority tell me that I will never be released. This has been something that has for so long been an infringement of my human rights. I will never be released? What is the reason behind this statement I wonder? I want to know why this became the standard response every time I said I was an Innocent man. Is this the official line of the Home Office? That a person claiming innocence can not be released? Or was this introduced to try and scare me into accepting this conviction in the hope that if I conform I could one day be released?

It was at this time that I first set eyes upon the face that was to become the woman of my life, a person who was to become my wife. We met at the church, even thought nothing but silent vibes surrounded us it wasn't until a while later while I was at another establishment that we finally became one. The first I saw her my heart knew the potential that was apparent to our hearts as she felt it also. True love in the midst of such deprivation. Who says God does not have a sense of humour?

My ways were still deemed wild and indeed they were, for it was not long after that I exhausted the patience of authority one night when I went a wee bit more wild than I usually was, resulting in a disturbance that was long after remembered.

"go on, do your bird you fenian bastard, "echoed around my head as I was frogged marched through a gauntlet of authority. Into a van I was put, off on another adventure to a destination I knew not, one being a "Cat A' prisoner one is not informed of when or where one is being moved too. I lobbed a grog of spit through the air to land upon the person behind the voice that scorned me; I could not do anything else as I was double handcuffed. That was my departure from the Scrubs, we never did see eye to eye there, authority and I. Journey to Albany under deck


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Reply with quote  #897 
Great post Berlin - is that extract from Kevin's book? Amma right in saying that he has written a book that is available on the internet to read - and if so, can you point me in the right direction?


Justice begotten in exchange is no justice,
For, exchange is trade,
A distressing gain through loss;
Justice is inherent right,
Though wrapped in black packs
In dark hall of race for survival
Like gold strains bound in mud
Till exploited;
She is cool like ice
And still like rock;
No easy road to charm her soul
While hardship makes her no more justice.

She, in inaccessible moon,
She, in inaccessible moon,
She, in inaccessible moon,
A charming dream of undying hopes.

She appears by disappearance
And cracks confidence;
You feel her flight outward
While strange shadows dull your Self;
You cannot catch her back,
You cannot catch her back,
For, in outward flight, she sinks to darkness
Where eyes blind
And distance rises;
Your hands, raised for justice,
Grope in hopeless void till strain
And give up unending fight forever
As dreams never win realities of deceits;

You see her in shades
In gloom’s dark sea;
She surfaces from night’s unending darkness
Like hopeless inaccessible mirage
In your eyes
While the world sees there plain darkness;
She is unseen to all
She is unseen to all, but,
You, who lost her out;
Men seek justice
In passion’s thousand hues,
As she is invisible otherwise;
Aye, justice hides from justice
And breeds injustice.

Why justice is shackled to greed and bribe?
Why justice is fished out from popular mood?
Lost in thick jungle of lightless night,
Like rat, caught in the sack of death,
Like deer, caught in lion’s lair,
She never reaches Self by herself.

Justice is the just haunt of nature’s all games
What man for his crave molests and tames.

Justice must be just for all to see
In glow of crystal brightness
And impose herself in natural ease
Like flood seizes low-lying lands
And fill all pits of man’s callousness;
It is justice of course,
It is justice in natural haunt,
That none gain by trade
Nor lose ever.

For, justice that limps in darkness is justice dead,
A corps you can never infuse life with.

Alas, justice lives feeble life
And yields to injustice in comfort;
It haunts as ghost after death
As if seeking rebirth
To live again weightless life
With no passion for just path,
Nor for anything just and fair.

Justice with no heart for truth,
Justice with no dash for right cause
Is justice dead indeed.

Ferris Conspiracy - the only conspiracy worth being a part of...

Posts: 1,392
Reply with quote  #898 
Good post Berlin

It's unbelievable the amount of people who know about Kevin's case yet nothing has been done about it . I understand that a prisoner must admit guilt before they are considered for parole. To be told at his trial he could not appeal , given a recommendation of 20 years, then told at the beginning of his sentence he will serve 30 years is unbelievable !!!!!

Berlin as you are Kevin's mate and have worked tirelessly to highlight his case. I wonder why no organisations such as MOJ , Prisoners families, Rough Justice etc  have never  taken up Kevin's plight. Do you have any more information about Kevin's case or is he still rotting away incarcerated ? Is there nothing else can be done ?  Thanx for taking the time to read this feedback if any would be good . What do other people on the forum think of this ?

Rather swallow My Blood Than my Pride

Posts: 788
Reply with quote  #899 

Originally Posted by berlin
Kevin And I Have Been Saying This From 1986
This Year Could Be Your Year
Happy New Year Mate

This says it all for me Dejavu all these years and of course the extract from remaining human.


Posts: 2,060
Reply with quote  #900 
          Thanks for taking an interest in my mates case/writings
its not officially published yet,but over a year ago i let members
of this site read in full 'Remaining Human 'its far too long to private
message,the only other way would be by e-mail attachment .
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