At the finish, that old Ahern magic had some of us doubting ourselves and feeling sorry for him, writes Miriam Lord
HANDS IN his pockets, looking heavy of heart, Bertie Ahern left the Mahon tribunal for the last time.
He isn't taoiseach any more, so there was no need to put on his happy face for the cameras. But, courteous as ever, he stopped for the microphones.
"Hiya folks, howya doin'?" It was hard to hear him as the competing roars from supporters and detractors grew louder in the background. He waited for the questions.
So Bertie, any final thoughts after another day repeating you never took a penny from anybody? "And I didn't. I made that [clear] from start to finish and, you know, the reality is, I didn't and I had to be brought to the end, you know."
A lot of people had it in for him - of that, he is convinced.
Information was used against him in "a selective" manner. Right to the end, Bertie insists he is a victim of individuals who were out to get him.
Clearly, he believes they got what they wanted - but he won't name names.
"Start at the start and work it all out," was all he would say.
The former taoiseach couldn't disguise his bitterness at the way things have turned out for him. Bitterness is a most un-Bertie-like trait, but you could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes.
He was 8½ years trying to defend himself "on the one issue", he shrugged. The tribunal exacted a toll on his family and on his friends, he sighed. "And it did politically. Of course it did."
His voice trailed off. He got into his car. It wasn't as clean and polished as the one he used to arrive in and it had a scratch along the side. The reporters turned away quietly.
The one sentence Bertie didn't say was hanging in the air, because we read it in his expression: "I hope yis are happy now."
Despite the evidence of earlier hearings, when Dublin Castle listened to his financial explanations with open-mouthed incredulity, the Bertie factor was still working its cloudy magic.
At the finish, he had some of us doubting ourselves and feeling sorry for him.
One long-time tribunal observer struggled to remain strong after witnessing Bertie's downcast exit.
"You'd have to feel for him, but with the best will in the world, no sane person could believe his stories," he murmured.
Bertie's final day in the witness box was fascinating. There came more memory lapses and more strange coincidences. Deathly Des O'Neill continued to grind his way through the near impermeable mass that is Ahern's Wall of Sound, unstoppable as a glacier.
In his wake, he leaves behind mounting shards of circumstantial evidence.
The implacable lawyer exposed meetings with businesspeople followed by mysterious lodgements, followed by more meetings and further lodgements, turning up dates that corresponded with money and correspondence that contradicted evidence.
What the former leader brought to the table instead was his impeccable record of public service and his unswerving belief that Irish government ministers have never done anything as grubby as accept money in return for favours.
Never, ever, stressed Bertie to O'Neill's upturned eyebrows.
"That's my evidence," said the witness. "I never saw it linked up and other people have been in trouble over other things, but it has never been linked back."
Bertie had news for sceptical Des: "That is not the way democratic politics has worked in my long experience, and I have been in 10 Dáils, at cabinet tables for over 25 years."
That was his evidence yesterday. Unfortunately for Bertie, there's his other evidence to digest. It suggests he got shedloads of money when minister for finance and cannot credibly explain its source.
Could it be that Eamon Dunphy was right when he told the tribunal how he was told by developer Owen O'Callaghan that the trouble with Bertie Ahern was that you give him money, but he does nothing in return? Hence, working by Bertie's compass, there is no link. He got money, but did nothing for it. Where's the problem if it didn't interfere with the proper execution of office?
So, it may be possible to believe that Bertie Ahern really believes he did nothing wrong, that he somehow believes he worked on the right side of an invisible moral line between private donations and public duty.
He has already thrilled the tribunal with his take on the subject of donations for political/private use.
During his days of giving direct evidence, when he came out with truly risible excuses to explain how large amounts of money, much of it in foreign currency, came to rest in his many accounts, did Bertie honestly expect sensible people to take him seriously? Maybe he did, for he insists he adhered to the rules of good government.
Owen O'Callaghan was told a rival firm would not be getting tax designation. Good news for Owen. Yesterday, Bertie said that was because it was policy. (Whether or not he told Owen this we don't know.)
And sure if a few rich businesspeople thought they were on to a good thing because he gave them his ear - but nothing much else, it transpires - then nobody was hurt. Bertie did nothing wrong and he was in a financially strapped position at the time.
Sure wasn't everyone at it? It remains to be seen whether the tribunal judges adopt a similarly morally ambivalent approach when it comes to writing their report. In the meantime, Bertie will nurse his hurt and hope the public comes around to his way of thinking come the next presidential election.