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‘It’s not the same anymore’: Tullamore continues to grieve after murder of Ashling Murphy

Locals around the town and walking along the canal path react to the news of Jozef Puska’s conviction


A couple of minutes after Jozef Puska’s guilty verdict for the murder of Ashling Murphy was handed down on Thursday afternoon, members of the public on the streets of Tullamore, Co Offaly began to digest the news.

For some, like Brian McDonnell, walking up Patrick Street, he was hearing it first from this reporter. “I am absolutely happy with this result. I think justice has been served. To me, he was very much guilty from the get-go, with all the stuff he made up.”

“I’m delighted they found him guilty. I thought that’s what the outcome would be; there was so much evidence against him,” said Ann Colsh, who was serving behind the counter in Vincent’s Charity Shop.

Alex Sheed and Danielle Tallon were heading into Spar on Bridge Street. “I’m really happy to hear that news, because there was no doubt in my mind he was guilty,” Sheed said. “I’m delighted,” Tallon said.

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“I just read the news online on my phone,” said a man on Patrick Street who did not wish to give his name. “The jury got it right. I was anticipating this result, but at the same time, it was very unusual to hear the judge say what he did: that ‘there was evil’ in the room.”

‘We have all been waiting for the verdict, and this is the verdict everyone wanted to hear,’ said Aoife Carroll, waiting to cross at the lights. ‘There was a sigh of relief when we heard’

Siobhán Creeby had heard the news from a colleague. “I’m happy. I was sure this was going to be the verdict. I hope it brings some ease and peace to the family.”

“We have all been waiting for the verdict, and this is the verdict everyone wanted to hear,” said Aoife Carroll, waiting to cross at the lights. “There was a sigh of relief when we heard. It has affected the town in a big way; it was like there was a dark cloud over it.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s guilty. The family will be happy,” a young woman said who wished only to give her first name, Róisín. (“I want to apply for the guards and I’m afraid of them looking for mentions of my name online,” she explained.) “My worry was that things would be said on social media that might impact the trial, but that didn’t happen.”

“It’s the right verdict. He was telling lies from the start,” Ollie McLoughlin said. “It’s shocking to think someone had to defend him. It’s hard to credit all the stuff he said; all the lies, but the jury didn’t take long to reach their decision.”

McLoughlin was standing outside the Shoe Loft on William Street. Among the window displays of winter boots and party shoes was a large photograph of Ashling Murphy, with a red candle in front of it; placed there, an employee said, on the first day of the trial as a show of support to her family.

Ashling Murphy (23) was murdered barely two kilometres from this shop, at a point on the Grand Canal Loop path, while out for a run on January 12th, 2022. The Grand Canal Loop is a 4.5km stretch between Digby’s Bridge at Cappincur and Bury Bridge at the Tullamore town end, with paths running either side of the canal. The Blue Route is the side that has a tarmac path. The Green Route on the opposite bank is an unpaved, grassy path.

In the days preceding the guilty verdict, this reporter twice walked the length of the Loop. Standing on Digby Bridge, a little arched stone bridge at one end of the Loop Walk, you can see clearly down the arrow-straight canal. You can see the spire of St Mary’s Church of the Assumption in the distance. You can see a lock. You can see the building at Boland’s lock on the right-hand side of the canal. You can see the modern bridge of the town’s bypass. And you can also see the outline of a wooden bench that is placed at a right angle to the tow path it abuts.

This bench marks the scene where Ashling Murphy, a primary school teacher, was murdered by Jozef Puska. It’s less than five minutes’ walk from Digby’s Bridge to the bench and surrounding area that commemorates her. A man passing the bench blesses himself. The undergrowth and trees that were here on the day she was murdered have all since been removed. There is now a well-tended clearing here instead, with new planting of trees, including a weeping willow. Primroses, pansies and lavender bushes surround the paved area where the bench stands.

The bench itself has the words “In memory of Ashling Murphy” in large capitals carved into it. There is a wooden cross with a plaque commemorating Murphy. The cross is draped with four sets of rosary beads and a Celtic Cross on a chain. It also has three yellow wristbands with “Ashling” on them, a tiny drooping daisy tucked into one.

Among the many other tributes here are seven lanterns; eight guttered candles; four battery-operated tea lights; three windmills; several painted stones with various rainbows, hearts, music crotchets, a violin, the words “Hope” and “Love”; a sodden teddy bear holding a heart; four potted plants; a fresh bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums and pink gerberas; three dying red rosebuds wrapped in tinfoil; a large graduation photograph of Murphy; another of her with a violin; blue metal butterflies wavering on tin stems; a slate from Scoil Naomh Colmcille (Durrow National School), where she taught, with the words “Loved and missed by all at Durrow NS”; and on the bench, a large teddy bear and a stuffed rag doll wearing a Christmas-themed dress, with “Ashling” in red felt.

‘I’ve walked here all my life, since I was a child, and the place is spoiled for me now,’ said Gerry Molloy, who was on the next stretch of the towpath, eating an apple. ‘I never walk up as far as her bench now. I can’t bear it’

Collectively, the visual impact is busy, frantic and urgent; crowded as it is with so many things that all strive to remind passersby of who Ashling Murphy was. Many people have come here since January 2022 and left items to demonstrate a grief and loss that this week was so sharply felt.

“I’ve walked here all my life, since I was a child, and the place is spoiled for me now,” said Gerry Molloy, who was on the next stretch of the towpath, eating an apple. “I never walk up as far as her bench now. I can’t bear it. Lots of people stop at the lock before the part where her bench is. They don’t want to go past it. I used to see a girl jogging here with two dogs almost every time I came before it happened. She has never come back. I see her jogging around the town now instead.”

Bríd Jones was standing looking out over the still canal water. She regularly walks from Bury Bridge to Digby Bridge and back. “It was a lovely, quiet haven. What we are left with now is something completely different. We are all aware and conscious now of who is walking behind us.”

What did she mean by “we”?

“We women,” she said. “All the women I know who walk this path think the same. It has introduced caution into our walks. Initially, after it happened, nobody I knew was out walking. It took a while for us to come back. But nobody has forgotten.”

Francie Kirr was fishing for “anything I can get. Bream, pike, perch.” A box of live maggots was beside him. “I’ve been fishing since I was a kid.” He said, no, nothing had changed for him in the way he used the amenity of the Grand Canal Loop. “But I think it changed things for women, especially those who used to walk alone.”

Friends Veronica and Maura did not wish to give their full names. They walk this way daily. “It took us a month to come back afterwards,” Maura said. “We never walk alone, but that isn’t because of what happened. We didn’t do that anyway. I was never anxious before.”

“You’d be conscious of what happened,” Veronica said.

Maria Walsh (29) walks the full loop two or three times a week. “What happened to Ashling Murphy of course is terrible, but it hasn’t stopped me walking. I came back as soon as the path opened up again. I didn’t feel like it was unsafe. She was so unlucky. Five minutes either way and she would have been nearly home, or else safe. She was unfortunate to come across evil.”

Puska

Did she think age was connected to some older woman reporting they do not feel as safe as they did?

“Maybe. I don’t know. Some people will always be more worried than others.”

There’s a steady stream of people biking, jogging, walking their dogs, a few people with buggies, one woman swooping past on roller blades

“After it happened, I didn’t walk here for the first couple of weeks,” Ann Connelly said. “The thing that is so strange about what happened is that there are always people on this path. Or were always. I don’t think there are as many people on it now.” Connelly walks the path from Monday to Friday and sometimes also at the weekend if she has time. “But I am wary now when someone comes up behind me. Everyone is. A man came up to me yesterday and he only wanted to know the time, but it freaked me out.”

A heron flies by at intervals, landing intermittently at the edge of the water. The Loop is a lovely amenity, and it does not feel an isolated place at all, which must make what randomly happened here in January 2022 all the more sinister and confusing to local people. There’s a steady stream of people biking, jogging, walking their dogs, a few people with buggies, one woman swooping past on roller blades. The odd vehicle beeps and passes, coming or going from one of the canal side residencies: a bungalow with a red front door; the Grand Canal Kennels; the white Lock-keepers House at Lock 26.

Two women walking together wearing woollen hats did not want to give their names, but said they were “70-plus” and “almost 70″, respectively. They always walk as a pair now. “Before, we would have walked alone sometimes,” said the woman wearing a pink hat.

“It definitely has changed the experience,” her friend said. “It’s not the same any more. It’s never going to go back to the way it was before. I see young girls out jogging by themselves and I don’t know why they are still doing it. Maybe they don’t think anything will happen to them.”

They make a point of always stopping at the memorial bench. “We never pass by without saying a prayer for Ashling, and we talk to her,” said the woman in the pink hat.

PJ Hayeswas out with his dog Chase. “I have walked this path for years; every day. Even after she died, I walked straight away, as soon at the path opened. But every time I pass where they left the marker [the memorial bench], she always comes into my mind. It should never have happened, but I feel safe.”

Did he think that being a man contributed to his feeling of safety?

“I’d say yes. I’d say the women feel a lot more nervous.”

There are fewer people on the opposite bank, where the path is through muddy grass, but there are some cyclists on mountain bikes. The entire time, the constant sound of traffic from the Tullamore bypass is present.

At the Bury Bridge end of the route is a memorial sculpture for Fiona Pender (25), who has been missing since 1996. She was seven months pregnant. The Grand Canal Way has a second name: “Fiona’s Way”, named for the young woman who vanished one August day and has never been seen since. There is a memorial here too. Carved in stone are the words: “A mother holds her child’s hand for only a few moments in time, but she holds them in her heart forever.”

Beside the stone carving is a lantern, with two faces etched on the glass. One is of Fiona Pender. The other is of Ashling Murphy. Two young Offaly women dead long before their time, and destined to be long remembered.