When You Wake up and Scream

'Conán Connolly died before an ambulance could arrive on the scene, and, despite efforts to revive him, he was dead on arrival when the ambulance reached the hospital. Conán was pronounced dead at 9:15am, on May 21st, 2006.

'Emmett Laverty, who was thirty-two at the time of Conán's murder, was found guilty of stabbing Conán to death and given another life sentence on top of the many others he had already received from previous crimes. Laverty, who is a serial rapist and a murderer of one, was found to be sane and in control of his actions when he killed Conán, and, when asked why he had committed the act, he replied: "Everyone wanted that son of a bitch out of there. He was sick, he deserved what was coming to him and everyone was too scared to do it. So, I did. He wanted to die anyway, so I guess I was doing him a favour."

'Conán Connolly was discreetly buried in an undisclosed cemetery. His last words were, "Thank God it's over".

Conán had been suicidal for years prior to his death, and when he saw the knife, he was reported to have stopped fighting and instead to welcome the attack. He died quickly and it has been said that his death made things easy for him. He had obviously wanted to die, and had frequently said that he would be happier if his life could just end.

'"I don't know what I have left in this world," he told the author. "I don't want to be here anymore. What I did was evil and sick, and I don't deserve to breathe the same air as everyone else on this earth. If death came to me tomorrow, I would welcome him with open arms. If I could just stop breathing, I would. I really would. I know I'm not going to be around for much longer. I'm either going to get myself, or someone else will do the job for me. I just hope that, somewhere among the carnage that was my stupid, sorry life, someone will be able to learn something. I don't see how it could teach anyone anything, but I suppose there has to be some good that will come out of it, or else why would it have ever happened?"'

Naoise pressed the "Save" button on her computer and then leant back in her chair, tears dribbling down her face. A lot of time had passed, but when she thought of Conán she sill remembered the cheeky youngman whom she had laughed with all those years ago.

Naoise McCullough, the Trinity College student, as now Dr. Naoise MacGee, PhD. She had graudated from the university first in her whole Psychology department and had gone on to work closely with the Garda in criminal psychology. She had seen a long line of killers in her work, but never had one been as chilling as Conán Connolly, whose name still returned to haunt the crime channels on the television or the conversations of those who had been around the see it first hand.

She was married now. Her husband, Dualtagh MacGee, was the father of her three children, Caitlin, Éireann and newborn Shane, and he had been spurring her on with her book, which was now completed. He came in now, just as she was staring at the screen, feeling as though she had climbed a mountain as well as fallen back down it again.

"You all right, love?"

"I got it finished," Naoise managed a tearful style. Dualtagh hugged her.

"I'm really proud of you, babe. I knew you could do it!"

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"I'm always here, you know that. Hey, you're crying! What's all this, eh?"

"I don't know. I just hate thinking about his death. I couldn't believe it when I found out. I know he wanted to die and all ... but it seems like such a waste. I guess I don't see him as Conán the murderer. I see him as the guy I knew. The funny and kind guy who made my day all those years ago."

Dualtagh kissed her head.

"I know it must be hard for you, honey. But you can't live in the past. You have to look at all of the positive things. You've got me and the kids, you're in your dream job and you're brilliant at it, and they've been waiting on this book for a year and a half. You'll make a small fortune! You've still got a whole lifetime ahead of you, and if Conán's taught you anything, it's that you shouldn't live in the past."

Naoise managed a smile.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I can take that lesson from him."

"I'm going to head up to bed, Will you be up soon?"

"Yeah, in a couple of minutes. The kids are settled?"

"Sleeping soundly."

"Brilliant. All right, let me shut everything off down here and I'll be right up."

Dualtagh smiled and nodded, leaving the room and pulling the door closed slightly. Naoise sighed again and began closing all of the windows on her computer screen, including the many websites detailing Conán's case. There were a couple of photos thathad crawled out of hiding that she had never seen before. Her favourite was the one she was looking at now. He was at work, on one of the rare occasions that he was, standing on the roof of a house. The person who had taken it was up there with him, and they looked as though they should have been helping to replace some tiles. Instead, Conán was wearing his safety helmet back to front and was leaning off the roof with only the TV aerial for support. His other arm was spread out into thin air and he was wearing the familiar cheeky grin on his face, his eyes alive and bright and sparkling. It was hard to believe that he was already a serial killer when this had been taken.

Naoise smiled, forgetting the ugly facts as she looked into his face. This was the Conán she had known. She closed her eyes for a moment, and took herself back to a small memory in her brain, one that she had never shared with anyone, not even Dualtagh. This was [i[her special memory, untarnished, unexploited, all hers.

"Conán!"

Naoise chased him as he ran away up the street, laughing and holding their bottle of whiskey tauntingly in the air.

"You're not going to get it!" he laughed, before he suddenly fell onto the floor. Naoise collapsed laughing. Things were always so much funnier when you were drunk, and that night she and Conán were the definition of drunk.

"You're such an idiot!" Naoise shrieked with laughter. O'Connell Street had been quiet and deserted until they had come along, shattering the peace. She stumbled to him through her laughter and jumped on him before he could get up.

"Argh, gerrof!" he laughed, holding the whiskey away from her. She laughed as well, trying to get it off him, but he managed to dart out from under her and run back to the dark mass that was the General Post Office. She gave chase again and he darted around one of the columns, her trying desperately to reach around to grab him. He was quick, and confused her within record time with what direction he was going in. Suddenly, he came around from behind her and grabbed her, tickling her madly, having put the whiskey down beside the column. Naoise collapsed into laughter again and tried to get away, and for a while they carried on like this until they fell over again.

"I think we're a little intoxicated," Conán said, after a moment of thought, and Naoise giggled, rested her head against him. He kissed her then, and for a long while they stayed like that, not caring that they were lying under the portico of the GPO in the middle of the city centre. It didn't matter then. They were in love, and they were having fun.

Naoise opened her eyes and looked at the picture one last time. She took a deep breath and clicked off the page, shutting the computer down and switching it off at the plug. The memory stayed with her as she checked on her children, kissing their soft warm heads as they slept, her two beautiful daughters and her tiny son.

She went over the memory again as she brushed her teeth, looking at the photograph of him that had stored in her head, permanently in her memory.

"Conán!"

Naoise was chasing him again, and she leant her head against the cool mirror of the bathroom and smiled, tears stinging her eyes again, but not as furiously. That was the Conán she had always know, and that was the Conán she would always remember. That was how she always wanted to remember him.