John Jones, of Ballbriggan, Dublin, was born on 12 November 1944. From 1984 to 1987, he and Dessie Ellis, of the Provisional IRA, were partners in a television shop, Company Channel Vision, at Church Street, Finglas. This shop doubled as a Sinn Féin advice centre. Ellis was well known nationally, as he had been extradited to England in the late 1980s in connection with bomb-making.
Jones was interviewed on 16 July 1996, and readily admitted that he knew both Tom and Catherine Nevin. Catherine first came to his notice in 1984, when she called to the Sinn Féin advice centre. There were follow-up meetings at the Cappagh House pub in Finglas, which was at the time leased to the Nevins.
He was interviewed again on 27 July 1996 by Sergeant Brian Duffy and Detective Gerry McKenna. He was relaxed and at ease in the presence of the two Gardaí, and had no hesitation in discussing his previous contacts with the Nevins. He volunteered a statement in writing, which was gladly accepted.
At his first meeting with Catherine, she said she had been referred there by a prominent city councillor. Jones was dubious about this information and checked it with the man in question, who could recall no such meeting with her. She was interested in leasing or buying a pub in the area. This type of request was unusual at the centre, and his suspicions were immediately aroused. He later found out that she and Tom had taken over the Barry House pub in Finglas.
Catherine continued to visit the advice centre. Even after buying Jack White’s Inn in 1986, she kept in close contact with Jones, and started to visit his home. This was a contact to be cherished and cultivated by her. So intent was she on furthering this friendship that she left a present of meat into his house on one occasion. Jones retained his first impression of her as someone who should be kept at arm’s length.
In 1989, Catherine called to the advice centre, and was met as usual by Jones. What she said knocked him for six. Expressionless, she made a proposition: ‘She wanted us, Sinn Féin, to stage a robbery, and in the course of it, Tom Nevin, her husband, was to be killed.’
Better – and even more unbelievable – details were to follow: ‘The murder should be arranged for the Tuesday following the St Patrick’s Bank Holiday weekend. The hit should take place when Tom was en route to the bank, carrying approximately £25,000. The money would be for them.’
Jones didn’t quite know what to make of Catherine’s proposition, but felt obliged to pass it on to more senior members of Sinn Féin. A meeting was held, and it was decided that this was something to steer clear of. He relayed this information to her, but this did not stop her from making similar approaches. Eventually, he could take no more, and told her never to mention this proposition to him again.
After her last visit to him, he discovered that she had unsuccessfully approached two other members of his organisation with the same proposition. He didn’t – or wouldn’t – name these people.
Jones heard about Tom Nevin’s murder on the news the day it happened, and alarm bells started ringing in his head. He felt that he knew what had happened, but also had a guilty conscience about what had been proposed to him, and what he should have done about the approach. He was also fearful that Garda enquiries could place him as a potential suspect, if they discovered Catherine had approached him. He turned to Pat Russell, who advised him against going to the Gardaí, as they would, he felt sure, be visiting him in any event.
In his second statement, Jones recalls Catherine calling to the advice centre sporting a black eye and with her wrists bandaged. She stated that this was as a result of a beating at the hands of her husband. That was shortly prior to, or after, her approach to Jones to have Tom murdered. Jones believed that her aim in making the proposition was to get full control of the business.
It was also no coincidence that Catherine told Jones that the hit should take place when Tom was en route to the bank with the lodgement, and after a bank holiday weekend. The takings would be boosted, thus giving an even greater incentive to the hit man.
John Jones and Pat Russell were both shocked at the murder of Tom Nevin, whom they knew and liked. They, or the hierarchy in Sinn Féin, didn’t want the organisation’s name demeaned by them being cast in the role of hit men operating without a cause, and solely for financial gain.
Catherine had failed miserably in her approaches to Jones. This would perhaps have been sufficient for a lesser individual, but not for Catherine. If she was lacking in anything, it definitely was not confidence in her ability to win over those she needed in any evil adventure she might embark upon – even the murder of her husband.
The plot was getting intriguing, and the finger of suspicion was pointing like an arrow in the direction of Catherine. Nonetheless, she believed that her plans, which she had put together so carefully over a period of years, were flawless.