Eamon Ryan (Dublin Bay South, Green Party) | Oireachtas source

This is an incredibly important day for the families who lost loved ones in the Stardust fire, but I am conscious that any sense of relief today's apology may bring is tempered by the fact they had to wait for far too long to hear it. Most of us in this Chamber know what it is like to lose a family member, but few of us will have experienced the devastation of losing a loved one in such terrible circumstances. The fact this pain was compounded by the State's unwillingness to correct the glaring flaws of those original investigations for so long is impossible to justify by anyone here today. The organs of the Irish State did not respond when repeatedly confronted by contradictory evidence. It is a sobering indictment of our integrity as a nation and one we must reflect upon, uncomfortable though it may be for many of us in the most powerful positions.

I have spent some time since the verdict was announced last week going back over the pen portraits of the victims that had been read out by their families during the inquest's opening weeks. Reading about so many young lives cut short just as they were entering their prime is incredibly poignant. No one who died in that fire was over the age of 27. In fact, the vast majority were in their late teens or early 20s. I was 17 when that fire took place and I remember the shock that spread over Dublin, the pall, the gloom that Sunday and then on Monday morning going to school trying to make sense of what had happened. The fondness and affection with which the families talk about those they lost is both touching and heartbreaking: young people finding love or seeking adventure, boyfriends and girlfriends with dreams of settling down and raising families of their own, fans of football and fashion, some might have loved the Rolling Stones, others Dolly Parton and Diana Ross, young people generously sharing their pay with their parents to help their families through tough times.

The portrait Thelma Frazer's family gave the inquest would stay with you, and I hope and trust they will not mind me sharing some of it as an example now as I think it illustrates the incredible sense of loss all the families have experienced. Barbara Frazer was just six years old when she watched her big sister do her hair and makeup and pick up her clothes ahead of the Valentine's disco. Growing up in a house full of boys in Ringsend, the two sisters shared a bed in the family's box room despite the 14-year age difference between them.

That night, Thelma had hugged her little sister Barbara, given her a kiss and tucked her into bed before heading to Artane. The next morning, Barbara's father woke her frantically, shouting to ask her if she knew where Thelma was. Barbara told the inquest "That was the night that stole my sister, that was the night that stole my happy family, that was the night that stole my childhood". The big sister who Barbara had idolised was not there when she made her first holy communion a year later nor for any of the other life events that form such important markers in a young person's life. She has said "In my teens for advice, my big sister should have been there", "In my preparations for my wedding, my sister should have been there" and "When I had my daughter, my sister should have been there". Thelma's brother Maurice recalled how the house went from being a happy home full of life and laughter to just a house. I urge everyone to read the portraits themselves if they have not already done so.

Many of the families knew deep down that the official account of how their children had died was not right. The original tribunal certainly gave the impression of thoroughness, sitting for 122 days and hearing from more than 350 witnesses, but the conclusions it reached were clearly flawed. Despite unearthing no evidence to indicate that the fire was started deliberately, it nevertheless concluded that the most probable explanation was that it was the result of arson. We have witnessed this blaming of victims before. I am not the first to note the awful similarity to the Hillsborough Stadium disaster, where another devastated community was left to battle the authorities for decades in order to get justice. Just as with the Hillsborough campaign, the Stardust families were forced to call on every possible reserve of resilience and determination to force an uninterested state to listen. Just as with Hillsborough, the families eventually succeeded in getting an order for a new inquest to be held, with the Attorney General accepting their argument that the original inquest had been too narrowly focused on the medical cause of their loved ones' deaths and not focused enough on the wider circumstances behind them. Last week, the families got their answer - the answer they had known for decades but had been continually denied by the State - which is that their loved ones had been unlawfully killed. The families have every right to be angry at the State for having denied them that truth for so long.

What further compounds the sense of tragedy is that it was so avoidable if only proper fire and health and safety rules had been followed. We might be tempted to look back at the early eighties as an almost backward time compared with now but rules and responsibilities in respect of fire safety were well established. The Stardust nightclub was also known not be following them. A Dublin Corporation planning official had identified that the wrong type of tile was being used on the nightclub's walls but had felt that it was up to the fire brigade to object rather than up to him. Numerous complaints had been made by a corporation inspector about the venue's exits being blocked and yet it continued to operate. Just two weeks before the fire, the corporation had complained to Patrick Butterly that exits had been blocked during a packed concert at the venue. Assurances were given but not honoured.

It is right that the Taoiseach has offered you, the relatives, a full State apology today. It is one you have waited far too long for. As W.B. Yeats famously wrote:

Too long a sacrifice

Can make a stone of the heart.

However, the pen portraits that were so lovingly composed show that is not the case for you. Your sacrifice has undoubtedly been too long but the love and affection you continue to hold in your hearts for the sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles you have lost is undeniable.

I will conclude by quoting from another of the pen portraits, that of Michael Ffrench, as recounted by his sister Caroline. She recalled how Michael would take his young siblings to St. Anne's Park on the crossbar of the yellow racer he had made himself and how he would dance around the kitchen with his mother when she needed cheering up. She said that his dream was to make life a little easier for his mother. She recalled:

Michael was a legend. He was our big brother and our rock.

These young lives were cut short but their cherished memories remain. You, their loved ones, have kept those memories alive. You are an example of all that is good in our country. Thank you.

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