Sunday Sep 16 2007

In September 1990, I faced the biggest personal crisis of my life. I took a call from Tony Byrne, my manager at the time, that stopped me in my tracks.

"Hiya son," he said -- he always called me that even though he was younger than me. "Are you sitting down?"

When I told him I wasn't, Tony advised me to get a chair. He had the worst possible news. It was a prospect I'd dreaded for many years: the Sunday World was about to run a story about what happened in Adamstown.

I had hoped the story was dead and buried. I'd only met the girl a few times over the years. The first time was when she approached me and told me I was the father of her child. Initially, I didn't believe it, but when I heard all the facts I eventually realised it was true. When I accepted this, I suppose I panicked. I was terrified, realising the hurt it would cause Judy if she found out. I knew it would be like a knife slicing through her heart. The sheer thought of having to put my wife and family through something like that killed me. I was heartbroken at the idea of causing them so much pain.

I'd managed to deal with the situation privately at first and didn't tell anyone, but once I accepted paternity there were legal and financial matters that had to be sorted out behind the scenes.

It was an extremely stressful time, and I hated not being able to tell Judy the truth. Not that I had ever considered telling her was an option. I genuinely felt it was in her best interests not to find out about what had happened, particularly because there was a child involved. For 15 years, I had managed to keep my indiscretion a secret from her. After Tony's call, I was hit by the sudden realisation that I had no other option -- I would have to tell Judy everything.

I suggested that we go for a drive through the Dublin Mountains. After a while, I pulled the car over and switched off the ignition. Taking her hand, I looked her straight in the eye and told her everything.

Telling Judy what had happened was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. I can only begin to imagine how deeply upsetting it must have been for her to find out that I had fathered a child with another woman. She knew that I wasn't the type of guy who went out socialising and living the high life. If I had been the partying type, maybe it would have been less of a shock to her, but as it was I rarely went anywhere without Judy. I was the one that went straight home after a gig, even if I was playing down the country. She knew I wasn't a promiscuous type of fella, who was going down to the pub and drinking every night, trying to pick up women.

Judy didn't get angry but she was extremely upset -- we were both crying. I kept telling her that I loved her more than anything else in the world. I said that there was nobody else for me except her. I pleaded with her saying that we had six beautiful children together and we couldn't throw it all away because of one serious lapse on my part.

We sat in the car for what seemed like hours. I just couldn't apologise enough to her. There were other matters to consider as well, such as how we should break the news to the kids before the story was published. When we got back home I rang them all to warn them that there would be an upsetting article appearing in the papers in five days' time. I didn't really go into too much detail and just gave them the basic facts.

In the terrible days that followed I was so thankful to realise that if a relationship or a marriage is strong -- like ours is -- then you can overcome anything. It certainly caused a kink in our marriage, there's no doubt about it, but I worked hard to rebuild the trust I had lost. I hardly left Judy's side those days as I wanted to prove that I was more committed than ever to our relationship. There was never any question of our marriage breaking up, and Judy didn't ask me to leave the house or anything. Despite what we went through together that dreadful week, we are stronger than ever today, thank God.

I'll never forget the day the story came out. It broke on the front page of the Sunday World on September 23, 1990. When I read it, I was relieved that I had decided to tell Judy the whole truth about what had happened. I didn't want there to be any nasty surprises in store for her when she read the article. All the details in the story were pretty much exactly the same. I hoped that it would show Judy that I had been completely honest and had left nothing out. When the article came out, Judy didn't really say anything.

I had no one to blame but myself for the hurt I had caused to my family but their pain was compounded by the media interest in the story. While they didn't say it to me at the time, I'm sure my children were angry about what I had done, mainly because of the hurt I had caused their mother, whom they all adored.

Today, when I look back and think about the consequences of my behaviour in Adamstown in 1974, I feel very sad for everyone concerned -- my family, the girl from Wexford and her daughter. As far as I'm concerned, they're all innocent victims in this. I've met the girl on a number of occasions in the past but I don't have any father-daughter relationship with her. I sincerely believe that for her sake, and for the sake of my family, this is probably for the best. I've nobody to blame but myself for what happened that night and there's nothing I can say now to undo all the hurt I've caused. For what it's worth, though, let me clearly state this: I was the one completely at fault and I slipped up badly.

* * *

The day I found out that Richard was a heroin addict was one of the lowest points in my life.

Like all of my children, Richard had always shown a great interest in music -- they were all a chip off the old "Rock" in that respect. He's a great-looking kid, extremely handsome and a real cool dude -- probably too cool for his own good, sometimes. When Louis Walsh was putting his boy band together in 1993, Richard went down and auditioned for the job. I remember Louis rang me up and said: "Richard was terrific today, he's in."

Richard was absolutely thrilled when he heard he'd been selected. I remember the excitement in the house when Boyzone was officially born. Richard completed his Leaving Cert and decided that he was going to dedicate himself full time to the band. This concerned me because he was a bright kid and could have done well in college, but I reluctantly supported his decision. I had just a few words of advice for him: "Be professional and do it properly."

Just as Boyzone were on the cusp of stardom, however, Richard was kicked out of the band. He has always recognised that it was entirely his own fault. He just messed up and got involved with the wrong type of people.

The sad thing is -- and I'm not just saying this because I'm his father -- he was genuinely one of the most talented in the band. The truth is, all the other members of Boyzone were working-class fellas from the northside of Dublin -- they wanted success and were hungry for it -- but Richard wasn't.

The official line was that Richard was dropped because he didn't fit in with the image that Louis Walsh was trying to cultivate for Boyzone. The reality was that he was hanging around with a bad crowd and started missing rehearsals and important meetings. Louis could obviously sense the direction that Richard was going in so he sacked him after a couple of months. He wanted the cleanest-cut bunch of lads possible in his boy band, and Richard was acting too cool for his liking. He had far too much of a bad-boy attitude and gave the impression that he was answerable to no-one. Louis needed someone who was 100 per cent committed and dedicated, but Richard was giving a "couldn't care less" attitude.

It never dawned on him that he would be booted out of the band and he was shocked when Louis fired him. I was so disappointed when I heard what had happened and told Richard that it was his own fault. In the hope that he had learned his lesson, I decided to see if there was anything I could do to rescue the situation, so I somehow convinced Louis to let Richard back in the band again. I was always grateful that Louis gave him a second chance. But it wasn't long before Richard messed up again and this time he was out for good. I've always accepted Louis's reasons for throwing Richard out of the band and never thought he was a bollix for doing it. There were no hard feelings either between Richard and Louis and they've spoken many times since those dark days.

Richard took his ejection from the band extremely badly. Just a few days after he was sacked for the last time, Boyzone went on to sign a recording contract that would catapult them into the big time. While Richard probably felt sorry for himself, he certainly didn't feel hard done by. He knew he had only himself to blame but it must have been devastating for him all the same.

In the summer of 1994, Richard smoked heroin for the first time, in Spain. There's little doubt in my mind that the whole Boyzone experience contributed to Richard's problem with drugs. He had already been associating with the wrong types so it was inevitable that he'd end up in some sort of trouble. His sense of frustration over blowing his shot at stardom made him even more vulnerable to dangerous temptations. We only found out later, from other parents in the same predicament, that the warning signs were there: the secretive behaviour; the locked bedroom door; the staying out all night. At the time, we didn't know what was going on, especially as none of my children -- including Richard -- was a drinker. Eventually we started to suspect that there was something more seriously wrong.

One night I came home to find Judy in tears in the kitchen. She had found drug paraphernalia belonging to Richard in his room. On another occasion, Judy was up the walls with worry when he didn't arrive home and I ended up trawling the nightclubs of Dublin looking for him. When I arrived home, at about 3am, Richard was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, with Judy beside him, crying. I asked him directly what he was on and he told me it was heroin. I lifted him up and just put my arms around him and said: "Listen, now we know what we're dealing with, let's see what we can do about it. Let's solve this problem and get on with it -- whatever it takes, we'll do it."

Richard's recovery from addiction was a slow journey. It was a road filled with trips to hospitals, treatment centres and court appearances. Inevitably, perhaps, Richard's addiction got him into trouble with the law. On June 2, 1998, he was arrested and charged with possession of £40 (€51) worth of heroin and for allowing his car to be used to carry drugs. This was because the guy who was in the car with him was found to be carrying substantially more drugs than Richard.

I fully supported Richard in court when the case was heard nearly two years later, which was a stressful experience for both of us. It's a well-known fact that I broke down in the witness box. I wanted the judge to know that I felt my son had suffered more than others in his position because of my fame. I told the court that Richard had already effectively received a sentence on account of all the media interest in the case.

As hard as it was for me to go to court and publicly stand by Richard, I was glad to do it for him. I wanted the judge to know that my son was a good person at heart who had paid the price for having a famous singer as a father. We were incredibly relieved when Richard was handed down a two-year suspended sentence, as there was always the possibility that he could have been sent to prison. I'm happy to say it was an opportunity that Richard didn't waste.

One thing you quickly learn about heroin addiction is that full recovery is a long process filled with disappointment after disappointment. Richard had been in and out of different rehab clinics with no real success. We had no choice but to keep on trying -- there's nothing else you can do. I admire Richard for having the determination to kick his drug habit -- it took courage. I've heard stories about parents having to throw their kids out of the house because of heroin addiction. When they get completely out of control, you have no choice but to practically disown them. But even though it was very bleak at times, things never got that bad with Richard. Throughout his addiction, he remained a loving son. He went through hell but was able to come out the other side. We're not just proud of Richard's success -- we're simply relieved and overjoyed to have our son back.

* * *

On March 10, 1992, we tragically lost our firstborn son. He was 24 years old.

Joseph, our baby -- our six foot three baby -- was tragically taken from us and our lives were changed forever. Even though he had been born severely mentally retarded, it was not his condition that killed him in the end but a simple accident.

Joseph may have been brain-damaged but physically he looked like any other young man of his age. He did have difficulty swallowing sometimes because of his condition, but otherwise he was perfectly healthy -- that's why his sudden death came as such a shock to us. I remember the events of that painful time vividly. I had been over in the Lebanon performing for the Irish troops and the day I flew back to Dublin I got a phone call to say that Joseph wasn't well. He had pulled something hot off the cooker down on top of himself in the St John of God centre. It was a pure accident and was nobody's fault but Joseph was in a bad way and needed to be rushed to hospital by ambulance.

Judy and myself went straight down to James Connolly Hospital in Blanchards- town, where we found Joseph slumped in a chair in the casualty department. The staff said they weren't able to get him into the bed so I put my arms around him and lifted him up. As my head touched against his, I remember that Joseph was holding me. There was always a lovely smell from him, almost like what you'd get from a baby. I started talking to myself, saying: "God, please take this poor young man from us." Even though I said it I didn't really mean it. I just felt such pity for my son -- this helpless, beautiful man who was suffering so much. I wanted all this pain to be taken away from him.

The doctors examined Joseph and decided to keep him in overnight for observation. St John of God was good enough to send down a nurse to look after him. He was brought to another unit of the hospital and I lifted him into his bed. I asked him to give me a hug and he put his big arms around me. Then I gave him a kiss and left, not realising it would be the last time we would see our son alive. Judy was quite upset as we said goodbye to Joseph. Even though I was deeply concerned about his condition, I tried to stay strong for her sake, and assured her that everything would be fine.

Later that evening, Judy took a call from the hospital. We were asked to go back in because Joseph's condition had deteriorated. My heart jumped -- I knew this didn't sound too good but I hid my fears from Judy.

We arrived at the hospital and Joseph's room was just to the right of the front door. I held the door of his room open for Judy who walked in before me. Suddenly, she screamed and doubled over. I looked over at the bed and saw that Joseph's entire body was covered with a sheet -- he had died half an hour earlier. We learnt afterwards that the shock from being scalded had given him a heart attack. It was an appalling way to find out that our son had died.

The hospital had phoned us as soon as it happened and understandably they didn't want to break the news to us over the phone but I think a nurse or some other member of staff should have been stationed there to meet us before we went into Joseph's room. They should have prepared us for what we were about to see behind those unlocked doors. Somebody should have been told: "Stand at those doors until Mr and Mrs Rock get here and then bring them to me." It was a highly insensitive way to treat two parents who had just lost their son. I wasn't angry about it -- I don't get angry -- but I was certainly upset, especially for Judy.

Joseph's death was undoubtedly one of the saddest times in my life and I went to bits after it. Before we had the funeral Mass in Celbridge, Joseph was lying in the coffin in a separate room to the main church. I remained behind with him on my own to say goodbye to him one last time before the service. I bent down over his beautiful face and said: "I'm sorry, son."

'Always Me' by Dickie Rock is published by Merlin Publishing on October 1, €24.99 (hardback)

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