Garda Colm Horkan’s Brother Describes Brutal Treatment on the Night He Died

More than six years after Colm Horkan’s death, his presence remains unmistakable in the meticulously maintained family bungalow in Charlestown, Co. Mayo.

Photographs and keepsakes fill the walls and rooms, including an image of Colm at his passing-out ceremony in Templemore beside Garda Adrian Donohoe, who was also killed in the line of duty.

In the front room, a modest glass-fronted cabinet holds his medals and awards, Garda hat and epaulettes marked with his unique shoulder number, RL 255. The display also includes the tricolour placed over his coffin at his State funeral.

Together, the mementos reflect a life devoted to serving the Republic and representing his local GAA football team. For Colm’s surviving siblings and their father, both achievements remain a profound source of pride.

“Colm was very quiet. He was a very quiet man,” his brother Dermot tells the Irish Mail on Sunday.

As Dermot speaks, his sister Deirdre and brother Padraig watch on and help fill in the details. The affection they felt for Colm is clear in every recollection, a reflection of his place in this large, traditional Irish family.

The 63 pages of heartfelt messages posted on rip.ie after Colm Horkan’s death also demonstrate the deep regard in which he was held throughout his wider community.

“We’re from Charlestown, Co. Mayo. The seven of us were all raised in a pub in the centre of town called the Dewdrop Inn,” Dermot says.

“That’s where we were born. Colm was born there too. They were born up the street,” he adds, gesturing towards his siblings.

“We all lived in The Square and worked in the bar. Our parents sold it after the three eldest had gone to America.”

Dermot explains that the family included two sets of twins, with Colm belonging to the older pair. His twin sister, Colette, died from cancer in the United States in 2005.

“There were two boys in the middle, Brendan and Aidan. Sadly, Aidan passed away in September 2023, and then Padraig was the youngest.”

“So it was just Colm and the rest of us – me, Deirdre and Padraig. Colm had applied to join the Guards, which meant there would be no one left to work in the bar. That was when they sold it.”

“My mother had been unwell, so they sold the bar and Colm joined the Guards. He was a real Guard. He was straight, you know.”

“There was no messing with him. He did everything strictly by the letter of the law.”

“When we were young and a report came home from school, you were never afraid of my father. You were afraid of Colm because he was the father figure in our lives.”

“Colm was exceptional at everything he did. He was an outstanding footballer and didn’t drink until he was about 25.”

“He was very straight, but everyone loved him. He was such a pleasant fella. Still, when Colm spoke, people listened. If he gave you advice, you took it.”

‘We all went to him for advice. He was the grounding for us, for all of us.

‘But when our sister Colette was dying in States, he went over. He was the boss of our house, in the very best way. He was the anchor for us all.

‘He got his own room all his life; the rest of us had to share a room. There was seven of us but Colm always had his own room,’ says Dermot, laughing fondly.

‘He was the, you know…if you woke up in the middle of the night and went up to mum and dad, you’d be told go down to Colm, and you’d get into bed with Colm.

‘He was just very good to us. He would give you the best advice and put you on the straightest road.’

Colm first worked as a fireman, a role which remained, his family say, his ‘first love’.

‘He was 23 when he joined the Guards, and then he was 25 when he passed out,’ Dermot continues.

‘He had been in the fire brigade prior to that, locally. When he worked in the bar, he was in the fire brigade as well.’

Dermot, an undertaker who still works part time with the fire brigade, says: ‘Colm’s heart, I think, was still always with the fire brigade. 

‘The lads used to say in Ballaghaderreen, when he’d be sitting in the [Garda] station, [with] the guards there and [when] they heard the fire engine up the town, and Colm would jump up and he’d say, “Come on, we have to go and see.” They’d be [say], “We’re not firemen, we’re guards.”

‘But Colm would have to jump in the car and go out.’

Colm passed out from Templemore in 1995. ‘He was stationed first in Finglas, Dublin until he came down in 1999, down to Castlerea, so he was in Castlerea from ‘99, and then he transferred into Ballaghaderreen in 2013.’

Colm was based in Finglas in the wake of journalist Veronica Guerin’s murder, in 1996, and many of the gangsters implicated in her killing were based in the Finglas area. 

‘He loved Finglas and loved Dublin, but he loved it back here too – of course, Castlerea was very quiet versus Finglas,’ says Dermot.

He proudly tells the MoS of Colm’s prowess on the football field, saying: ‘The football was going really well here at the time, and he was involved with the senior team. 

‘They won the county final in 2001, with Charlestown Sarsfields [GAA club]. So he’s a medal for every age. They won at every grade: 12, 14, 16, East Mayo Junior. He has a junior, senior, intermediate, and county medal.

‘And then he has a Connacht medal, so he was part of a team that excelled on the field.’

‘He was a very good footballer, he played in the forward line, number 11.’

He adds: ‘He played for the May under-21s as well.’

As well as a sporting hero, Colm was a straight-down-the line, by-the-book type of garda.

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If any members of the family had been given a speeding ticket and had cautiously approached Colm for advice, he would take the money, pay their fine at the Garda station for them, and they would have to accept the penalty points.

Dermot remembers: ‘He said one time, “There is a fine to be paid in Roscommon Garda Station. Yeah, give me the 60 pounds.” He [Colm] comes back with the receipt and says, “There you go.”’

The siblings laugh fondly at the memory. ‘He used his discretion too, of course – but not with his family!’ Dermot adds.

Colm had only been with the detective unit six weeks before he was murdered.

Poignantly, Colm had told his family that he believed his new role was safer as there was a lot of dangerous anti-social behaviour in the area at the time.

‘Colm said, “I’m going to go up to Castlerea into the detective unit” and I said, “What are you doing going back up there for?” 

‘He said, “It’s so dangerous now. I’m in Ballaghaderreen on my own. You’re going up and there are people off their heads out in the gardens, drinking vodka and I’m going up trying to take knives off them and everything. I’m on my own. At least when I’m on the detective unit, there’ll always be two of us.”

‘And that night [of Colm’s murder], the guy that was working with them had taken leave, so he was on his own.’

As this mention of Colm’s murder hangs in the air for a moment, it’s obvious the family recall the sequence of painful events in vivid detail.

Dermot explains: ‘My ex-partner [Sinéad] was a guard who worked with Colm in Ballaghaderreen, and another garda that works in Ballaghaderreen was up and got the word, and called Sinéad and he said, “Has anybody called ye?” 

‘And she jumped up on the bed and she said, “No. Why? What’s wrong?” And he said to her, “I think he [Dermot] should get here. Colm has been shot.” The incident occurred around 11.55pm and we got the call around 12.20am.

‘I rang Deirdre at 12.30am and said, “I’m on my way to Ballaghaderreen, Colm is after being shot.” 

‘Normally, Deirdre would never have her phone in the room, and she was like, “What?” and I go, “Don’t move anywhere in case you have to go to a hospital or something.” And she was making a cup of tea, and Aidan and Padraig came into this house.’

In Ballaghaderreen, Dermot came upon a terrible scene.

‘He [Colm] was never taken to hospital, he was gone when we got there,’ Dermot explains.

‘The ambulance was still there, and they were using the thumper [defibrillator] on him, but you could see he was gone.

‘He was at peace. We were left standing up in the street there, and then the lady in the shop brought out a cup of tea to me and Sinéad.

‘The whole place was in turmoil – even the guards were crying.

‘We [Dermot and Sinéad] get into the car and Colm’s mate – he’s a sergeant [who] lives down the town but he was based in Swinford, but heard it on the radio – he drove home ahead of me, and we had to leave Castlerea and drive down here home. 

‘It was only afterwards, I thought about it. I said to my ex-partner [who is a Garda], “How come we weren’t offered to be brought up to the station, or a cup a cup of tea?”

She said, “He’s up there.”’

The ‘he’ Dermot is referring to is Stephen Silver, who was later sentenced to life in prison for Colm’s murder, and who is currently waiting on the outcome of an appeal hearing. 

Dermot continues: ‘But not one person said, “Here, we’ll bring you home” or whatever. They’ve apologised since then and said they were sorry.

‘Nobody had rang us since [the first garda] had rung us, unofficially, and I landed up the road in Castlerea,’ says Dermot.

At this point some of the siblings begin to cry, and Dermot also grows emotional. ‘No gardaí came here that night,’ he says, as the others nod in sad agreement.

‘No guards. No police. No doctor. Nobody came to the house where most of us were. No one ever officially notified us he was dead or that he’d been shot. Nothing.’

‘And the first person that came here in uniform was [former Garda Commissioner] Drew Harris, the next day at about two o’clock. 

‘When we went up and sat through the trial, we learned that a sergeant identified his body.

‘We didn’t even get asked to identify his body. His sergeant was asked to identify his body.’

Undertaker Dermot shakes his head in disbelief. 

‘Every death you go to, a family member is asked to come and identify their loved one. 

‘We didn’t even get asked to go and identify him. They’ve apologised since that. We’ve had it out with them, and they said, “We didn’t know where he lived. We didn’t have any details on him.”

‘They had no details on anyone, no next of kin.’

He adds: ‘Since then they have put all that in place – they have learned from it. They said they were traumatised. 

‘They said, “We never even thought of ye. We didn’t and we’re sorry.”’ 

Four of the siblings told their father, Marty, in the early hours. Eventually, Colm’s body was brought home.

Dermot says: ‘The Commissioner [Drew Harris] came the next day with the Chief Superintendent Tony Healy, for Mayo and another officer. 

‘He came and he offered us a State funeral and discussed about that because it was Covid and how they had to restrict it or whatever.’

Colm Horkan was honoured by the State as his murder is considered a crime against the State.

But it would be another three years before the family found out about issues with the holster – and when their fight to get answers from that very same State began.