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Quest for the truth set a new standard

ALTHOUGH I was only seven years old, the school trip to Mosney on June 26, 1996, would be one I would remember, not only for the shoes I swore I wouldn't ruin, or the chewing-gum stuck in my hair, but mostly for the red car covered in a white sheet.

Like the few things you remember from your childhood, it's the happiest and the saddest moments that stick. The 20-minute bus journey that turned into a three-hour crawl towards the Naas dual carriageway eased as we passed the red car which was encircled by gardai and men in weird white clothes. When my mother collected me, she was very upset. Worried that my mucked-up shoes had caused her upset, I apologised. She laughed, and said, "don't be silly, it's not that, someone we watch on TV has gone to heaven''.


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