11/06/2016
I feel both sick and sad today. This is a picture of the schoolbag that belonged to Philip Cairns. The bag was discovered a few days after Philip vanished on the 23rd October 1986. He was on his way back to school in Scoil Eanna after his lunch that afternoon when he disappeared.
I had just come home from England at the time and was working here for a pirate radio station called Energy 103 when the shocking news broke. I wasn't aware at that time that Philip and I were related back through the years of the Cairns and O'Callaghan families.
Last week, Eamon Cooke, a relentless pa******le in his day who preyed on young children, died in a Dublin hospice. He had been serving a prison sentence in Arbour Hill prison for repeatedly abusing and ra**ng a number of young girls in the 1970s when he became too ill to remain in prison.
A few weeks ago, in May, a woman came forward and gave evidence to gardai that Eamon Cooke had killed Philip. The investigating officers quickly believed her evidence to be highly credible. Following her statement to them they visited Cooke in the hospice, who, during questioning, acknowledged a lot of the woman's evidence as being true and accurate. However he did not tell the gardai where Philip's body lies buried. Cooke died shortly after the interview.
Philip was 13 years old. He clearly had an interest in radio as Cooke had promised him a visit to Radio Dublin, which he owned. During that visit, according to the evidence of this woman who came forward last month, Philip was struck on the head with "an implement" by Cooke. He died as a result.
My thoughts and my prayers today, as I write this, are with Alice, Philip's mam, his sisters - Mary, Sandra, Helen, and Suzanne, and his brother Eoin. Philip's dad Phil died a couple of years ago, heartbroken for his son for so long.
Eamon Cooke was a prolific pa******le. He took advantage of young children who called to the radio station, looking to play requests or be employed parttime as telephonists. His history as a child abuser is well documented by some of the women who survived his reign of horror and abuse. And I know that some of them will read this today.
I have never spoken about this before, even though I have been asked about my time at the station (which was brief). I started working at Radio Dublin in April 1979. Many of the DJs had left to go to 'Big D Radio', which was the bright light on the medium wave dial back then. Little did I know that some of them knew that there was something "all wrong" about Cooke. I just thought he wasn't paying the staff. I didn't care if it was just down to money: I just wanted to be a DJ with my own radio show. No one ever spoke about the abuse that was going on behind the scenes. Maybe no one knew, apart from his victims.
I saw the chance to fulfil my dreams as an 18-year-old to get myself on air and so I grabbed it. I sent in my demo tape and went on air the following Saturday night at 8pm. Little did I know that Cooke - a hero at the time when it came to running the most popular radio station in Dublin - was ra**ng children in a room upstairs above the studio, while his DJs were presenting their radio shows in the sitting room downstairs that overlooked Sarsfield Road, in Inchicore. I knew nothing about his 'alter ego'. Looking back now, it was a truly shocking time.
With the news I have been reading over the past few days I just can't stay silent. Philip would be 44 this year if he were still here. When I read about the new revelations this week, I felt a chill run up my spine. Cooke was a monster, on a par with Brendan Smyth. He was a predator. He was no different to Jimmy Saville. I know that now. I didn't have a clue back then.
Philip Cairns was inquisitive, innocent, gentle, and gullible - just like I was when I was 13. He clearly had a love for, and a leaning towards radio - just like I had when I was his age. It's ironic and strange and sad and nauseating to think that the person who gave me my 'big break' on the airwaves will now, forever more, be suspected of murdering my young cousin who, like me, just wanted to fulfill his dream of being a DJ.
Bless you, Philip. I wish I knew what your favourite song was as you hummed it to yourself on your way back to school that day thirty years ago. Rest in peace.
Today I want to send my love and best wishes to Philip's mother, his sisters and brother. Thinking of you all on this sad, strange day.