Crime in Sports - #461 - Molotov Cocktails & Ecstasy - Eamonn "The Terminator" Magee - Part 2

Episode Date: May 20, 2025

This week, we Eamonn's story continues, as he keeps boxing, becoming one of the biggest up and comers in Northern Ireland. He is also shot twice. Once by the Brits, and once by his own people. He almost loses his life, when his throat is slashed with a broken bottle, and he even beats someone senseless, at an NYC McDonalds! He also misses the Olympics, out of spite. A wild ride!!Be shot by soldiers, while trying to light a molotov cocktail, beat an American senseless for improper McDonalds drive thru etiquette, and nearly have your jugular severed because you didn't have an extra cigarette with Eamonn "The Terminator" Magee - Part 2!!Check us out, every Tuesday!We will continue to bring you the biggest idiots in sports history!! Hosted by James Pietragallo & Jimmie Whisman Donate at... patreon.com/crimeinsports or with paypal.com using our email: [e-mail] Get all the CIS & STM merch at crimeinsports.threadless.com Go to shutupandgivememurder.com for all things CIS & STM!!  Contact us on... twitter.com/crimeinsports [e-mail] facebook.com/Crimeinsports instagram.com/smalltownmurderSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey Prime members, you can listen to Crime and Sports early and ad free on Amazon Music. Download the app today. Thinking about the misfortunes your small business could suffer doesn't seem very zen, but meditate on this for a moment. Thinking leads to preparation. Preparation leads to peace of mind. You could call it ZenSurance. Get affordable insurance for as little as $19 per month. Quick and easy, whether you're self-employed, an entrepreneur, a contractor, or small business owner, ZenSurance offers the unique coverage you need in a snap.

Get an instant price today at zenSurance.com. Inspired by the hit podcast Against the Odds comes the gripping guidebook, How to Survive Against the Odds. Learn how to handle whatever nature throws at you through gut-wrenching true stories of life or death situations. This might just be the most important book you'll ever read. Go to SurvivalGuidebook.com to pre-order How to Survive Against the Odds today. Hello everybody and welcome back to Crime in Sports. Yay!

Oh yay indeed Jimmy. Yay indeed. My name is James Petragallo. I'm here with my co-host. I, Jimmy. Yay indeed. My name is James Petragallo. I'm here with my co-host. I'm Jimmy Wissman. Thank you so much for joining us today on another crazy edition of Crime and Sports. We're going to keep this story going. I figured out how to pronounce this guy's name.

Our Irish listeners were kind enough to point out that I was pronouncing it hilariously wrong. But they said it in such a cool way. Because they're like, because they said we got the city, the Ardoyne right. They said, you nailed that. That was great. But the name, not at all.

So I had to look it up. It's a crazy story though. We're going to get to part two here in just a minute. Before we do though, definitely head over to ShutUpAndGiveMe give me murder.com Get tickets for all the small town murder live shows for the rest of the year They are all for sale if you're hearing this it'll probably be after the Chicago show that takes place on May 17th If you listen early great come and see us in Chicago on May 17th

Otherwise get them for the rest of the year. They're selling out fast So yeah, like the ones like Seattle, DC, Philly, there's still tickets available there, but there's a lot sold out around them. So I would get those right away. Shut up and give me murder.com. Also all the merch you could shake a stick at. There might be a stick to shake with our, with crime and sports on it. I'm not sure. So check that out. There's everything from skateboards to coffee cups. So check all that out and hang out with us. Also listen to our other two shows, shows small town murder and of course your stupid opinions, which is the I think the funniest show going You should check that out. That's good shit by far. And then when you're done with all that patreon

Dot-com slash crime and sports go ahead and get your patreon and get bonus episodes immediate Immediately upon subscription you're gonna get tons of bonus episodes You never heard before new ones every other week one crime in sports one small-town murder and you get it all It's a lot of good shit So we'll talk all about that and more and you get a shout out at the end of the show, too Yeah, Jimmy will mess your name up while trying very hard to get it right so that said said, let's get back into our guy here. I called him Iman for two hours last week. It's not it.

Because it's E-A-M-O-N-N, Iman, right? Apparently it's Aiman. Whatever. Aiman, I was, okay, sure. So we're going with Aiman from now on. Okay, so when we left off, Eamon and his buddy were trying to get out of going to school for a few days by breaking each other's arms. And one of the most horrifying, and we've talked about murders and rapes and domestic

abuse of a horrifying nature and people holding babies in front of people with guns and shit like that. Somehow this guy breaking his friend's arm when they're nine years old is the most horrifying thing I've ever heard of my fucking life. Snap echoed down the street. He's like okay okay now I'm like no stop. So that's what happened so let's talk a little bit more about his boxing here, because while this is going on, his amateur boxing career is going very well. He's a really good boxer for a little guy. He was excelling in the organized championships

that 11-year-olds were eligible to enter. They're the first steps to get into the whole Olympic thing. You have to be an amateur fighter and make your way up the ranks before you'll be eligible to fight in the Olympics, which is kind of what amateur boxers are aiming toward for the most part. So he became the Antrim champion,

the city of Antrim champion, then the Ulster champion, then the Irish champion, and for years he did not lose a fight. So yeah, he becomes the Irish champion. For years he did not lose a fight. So yeah he becomes the Irish champion for years he doesn't lose a fight. He's kicking ass here he's doing great. I guess his family is a boxing family. His grandfather, mom's dad, was a boxer. His name was Emanuel Quinn, mom's dad, and he was a boxer too. So at the age of 12, she got him into a really good local boxing club, and that's how he became champion

of all this stuff. In her opinion, a good gym and a ring education was as important or more important than any education he was gonna get from school. She's not wrong. No, where they're coming from, like, you know, unless he's some sort of prodigy or something, he's not gonna be like an engineer

probably someday or something. This particular family. You're gonna have to find a way out. So yeah, it's considered a good trade to have. Her father, Emmanuel, was a fighter. He was seven and, what was he, seven and eight in his career, which is not too bad in the 30s and 40s. And he bought his grandchildren a punch ball that they all hit relentlessly, they say,

from the moment they could all fucking start punching. They loved it. So she thought that her dad was a good guy, so Isabel, the mom, knew that boxing would have a positive impact on the kids. My kids will be the 10% that has a positive impact upon rather than brain damage and eventual poverty. So she also suspected that maybe this will run in the family.

Maybe because dad was a boxer, maybe the kids will be good boxers too. So maybe it's one of those things. And if her dad's a boxer, it doesn't seem so far outside the range of what do you wanna be when you grow up? Like, what the fuck? Like if you say I want to be an actor,

unless someone in the family or something is an actor, they go, what are you crazy? What are you talking about? Get a job. Go to work. Yeah. Get a job. Stupid. If I told my family, I wanted to be a comedian, they would have been like, what? What's wrong with you? What are you talking about? I had to keep that private. I wasn't going to tell my dad that. I mean, maybe he would have encouraged me, but I think he would have probably said, what are you talking about? I had to keep that private. I wasn't gonna tell my dad that. I mean, maybe he would have encouraged me, but I think he would have probably said, What are you talking about? The union halls that way. Yeah, where? Where are you gonna do that right now? What are you doing? What are you talking about? Like nobody did that.

So, Isabel was one of 13 children that Emanuel had, so boxing didn't Isabel was one of 13 children that Emmanuel had, so boxing didn't affect his fertility at all, apparently. No kidding, yeah. Jesus Christ. 11 of which survived infancy, because back then babies died all the time. But none of them boxed at all. Which is fucking really interesting.

Yeah, none of those kids boxed. It skipped a generation or some shit. So apparently they were they were saying that the brothers, his brother Patrick especially, says his younger brother Eamon was a real ass-kicker. Like everyone was impressed basically. I guess they said but like his older siblings, Patrick shares precious few character traits with Eamon. They say he's measured and reserved, he's a father of three, this is later on, Patrick

is, you know, that sort of thing who values a quiet life above all else. So this is from the book here, they say, in our first meeting, he sits straight back and slightly tense at his kitchen table, and I have the impression his mind is in a constant whirl as it gauges How much to reveal to the stranger that has just entered his home? He only relaxes and opens up when the topic of amen is in the ring comes up. So which I think too that's a Lot of people who come from shit areas are like that too. Like I don't know how much I'm gonna tell you about anything You know, they're used to kind of

keeping it to themselves. So he says, if the first all-Ireland victory suggested greatness for the youngest McGee, an Ireland versus USA event the following year made an indisputable truth in Patrick's mind. Sacred Heart Belfast and Sacred Heart Noori joined forces to compete against an American team in a border town. So the Americans sent over their best fighters including

a kid in Eamon, or Eamon sorry, Eamon's weight class who hadn't lost in over 30 fights. Wow. And was kind of earmarked as this guy's gonna go to the Olympics and be a big hot shit guy. Now I don't know who this was which sucks I wish I knew who it was. They thought, I wish I knew who it was. They thought, a lot of people thought it was a wasted trip for the Americans because none of these guys are gonna wanna fight him basically, this American guy. So they end up putting Eamon in the fight

and Eamon beats him. One wins by unanimous decision. Not bad. He lost in 30. No, he's kicking ass. So that gave him a lot of self-confidence because he knew he was beating people around where he lives and shit,

but who knows if across an ocean it's a whole different story. Apparently it's not. Same thing. They say he's very aggressive too. A lot of the amateurs, it's a kind of a counterpunch thing. Defense is a lot of amateur boxing.

It's defense and try to get a counterpunch in and that sort of shit. He's aggressive like a pro fighter. Like trying to put you down and put you down early. He didn't just tuck his chin and trade shots with you. They said that he had a gift that allowed him to see punches before his opponent threw them a kind of pugilistic clairvoyance the book says. He could judge distances instinctively and he used that talent to draw rivals in before

catching them with sharp counters. In addition to his natural gifts, he was hungry to learn and quick to pick up and perfect new additions to his armory. So just like anything else, when someone's kind of a prodigy, you'll see kids that are little kids pick up a guitar and figure them out and know how to do shit and you're like, wow, I can't fucking do that. And it's the same thing with this. He just sees the angles correctly. And one of those things, man, some people see angles. Jerry Rice when he ran, it was all angles. You know what I mean? He was not a fast guy or not

the fastest guy out there, but angles are big shit. So He said this this is amen for my mom for my mom actually Boxing was as important as school if I did not go she would be down on me like a ton of bricks I found that fighting came quite naturally and to be honest that meant out on the streets as well He's like I can kick ass out there, too Just pretty fucking awesome He says this this is aim and quote. I remember When I was 10 or 11 and we had the hunger strike

It was just a bad old fucking routine and like anybody else you had to get stuck in or get killed Get stuck in or get beat as kids we didn't realize what it all meant so it was exciting for us they were hard times hard days but good crack crack I guess like that's like good shit yeah like a good time if you got clipped you had to fight back now I'm not talking about outsiders I'm talking about fighting our own street corner against street corner the only place we had to go was the street corners There and the gym also he said

He says that about the gym quote you had to go Monday Wednesday Friday It was like school you were never allowed a night off if you wanted one you had to hike off I guess run away. That would be I think my mother was looking for a break for a couple hours at night. Yeah, I bet. All these rambunctious boys running around. Shitload of kids in the house. And you assume after they come home,

after punching and being punched for a few hours, they'll probably chill out a little bit. Fingers crossed, yeah. They'd be fucking calmed down. Man, so she and her kids were basically left alone to fight for their own. Dad was interned and then ex-communicated. No, that's church, expatriated, I would say. So, McGee says that a couple of the visits to his dad

were burned into his memory. He said, though, like the people on the street corners, he was real into the troubles that were going on. And he said, the need to defend our area. He said, the whole area was involved. That was the way it was in those days. The Ardoin, Ardoin has always been on its own. A little part of Belfast on its own.

A stronghold. They couldn't take it over. The whole district could be closed down in a couple of minutes. Meanwhile, like they could, like the residents could close it down so the soldiers couldn't get in and make it very hard for them.

Declare their own martial law. Yeah. Yeah. So from the book they say, by the age of 14 he was already bounding into the gym excitedly to tell Patsy, that's his trainer, he'd been watching a certain professional fighter

the night before and noted a particular punch or combination that he was determined to master The pair would then work on it for weeks before unleashing it on an unsuspecting opponent Which he's actually doing the work. Yeah a lot of young fighters that have just like a lot of natural ability They sure tend to not like to do shit like that like watch film strategy strategy strategy Yeah, strategy. They tend to not like to watch film and not like to be you know Yeah, yeah, why somebody's good. They're like, I'm I don't need to I have natural ability. Yeah they said one famous example was a lightning double left from the Southpaw stance and

The Holy Family Club's Billy Boyle was the unfortunate guinea pig on that occasion. It was in a packed Dockers Building club in Belfast City Center's Sailor Town district and Eamon fighting the large mirror that adorns the side wall, squared Billy up and then debuted his new combination. There was a bedlam from the ringside as Boyle lay motionless on the canvas floor. The two left hands were so quick

and thrown with such deceptive power that most onlookers missed the punches and thought that the other fighter was taking a dive. Two lefts. Two left, quick pop pop. In a row and nobody even saw him come, wow. No, that is some, Joe Frazier used to have a left like that that people wouldn't even see, but it wasn't two. It was one. Two in him come, wow. No, that is some, I mean Joe Frazier used to have a left like that that people wouldn't even see,

but it wasn't two, it was one. Two in a row, yeah. I mean he would knock you out with the one. The two, the second one would be at the air because you were going down, so that was his punch. It was during that time that Eamon built a strong and lifelong friendship with Wayne McCullough, who won a bronze medal in boxing in the future.

So not bad. He was a bantamweight champion of the world as well. So a good fighter. Yeah, their paths would have crossed before in juvenile club shows, but it was only at the age of 11 that they properly met each other. They said that Wayne, they're total opposites basically. He is, this guy's a loyalist, British to the Brits guy,

he's a Protestant, I mean, couldn't be more opposite here. I guess him and Eamon had never had a full conversation, but then they ended up doing that. So they said that these people here, I guess two fighters too, if they respect each other like that, they can, that's a, I guess two fighters too, if they respect each other like that, they can, that kinda goes past others. Doesn't matter what they, yeah,

doesn't matter what their background is, or yeah. As long as they get along and have a mutual respect, nothing else matters. And that's what they did too, they figured out that all the polar opposites, all of that kinda shit are very different. Cause the other kid too, he didn't drink, smoke, party, throw Molotov cocktails or anything really.

So, now Eamon said, the author here asked Eamon about the friendship and said, man, it must have been really weird to be friends with somebody that different than you, and he said, why? Eamon fired back aggressively before I have a chance to make my point. When I elaborate, highlighting his extracurricular activities at the barricades, he's quick to cut me off. He says, listen, no one can help where they were born, right?

I'm from the Ardoyne. I'm Irish and I make no apologies for that. I was involved on the streets as a kid fighting the Brits, but that was just the way it was. That was nothing exceptional. All the boys I hung around with did the same. We'd sit around at night under the sniper towers in Flack Street Mill listening to rebel tunes, brainwashing ourselves really. Then when the riots started, we'd join in. And yes, we called the Brits our enemy, but I don't hate any group of people and I certainly never hated Protestants in Northern Ireland. I didn't give a fuck that Wayne was a Protestant from the Shank Hill.

He was and is a beautiful man. Impossible not to like. It's as simple as that. Beautiful man. Beautiful man. So, I guess, yeah, unless you're a soldier who's fucking with him, he's not going to hold anything else against you, apparently. Here is a story from the book.

On one occasion, three young Brits were patrolling the area when they spied Patsy, Patrick, and Amon cutting across in the direction of Jamaica Street. A cry to halt rang out, but the Irish trio initially chose to ignore it. Yeah, you try to run away, they're not talking to us. Pretend you don't hear it. Stop there. No. Stop.

No. They were more familiar with the landscape than their foreign visitors and were determined You don't hear it. Stop there. No. Stop. No. They were more familiar with the landscape than their foreign visitors and were determined to first place themselves on the other side of an expansive shallow looking puddle. They knew that due to the natural dip in the land at that point. The body of water was a lot deeper than it appears and if the Brits were intent on tormenting them that evening they were going to have a little fun of their own. Sure enough when they stopped in their tracks at the second English accented yell, the soldiers

marched forward into the puddle and within a couple of steps had sunk up to their knees. The filthy water well over the top of their boots, struggling to hide their amusement, the two young fighters and their coach then opened their bags to be searched by the probing ends of the privates rifles Boxers a one of the soldiers piped up. I used to do a bit of amateur boxing myself Before his brother or patsy had a chance to respond Amen decided to nip the attempt at friendly discourse in the bud He said quote you can't have been very good or you wouldn't be stood here now with a rifle in your hand would you?

That's amazing seems as though you can't do it here now with a rifle in your hand would you? That's amazing. Seems as though you can't do it and that's why you need weapons. No, that's why you're here instead of fucking boxing. The reply belied an intensity within Eamon, still not even a teenager. He had never known anything other than the foreign occupation of his streets and just like all the other kids his age, the message brits out had been drummed into him for as long as he could remember. But while other youngsters paid little more than lip service to those militant Republican

ideals, watching his father's struggles and absorbing into his bones the violence he witnessed daily on the street had caused Eamon to think about the situation more deeply than most. I belong here, you don't, he thought as he looked up and stared down that squatty in his gun, he was fearless. Five minutes later, he was in the gym, fucking doing everything and didn't care anymore. So yeah, all there. Here's some more shit from the Brits here attacking. They say the antagonism from the British forces

followed McGee and the other Sacred Heart fighters to the very edge of Northern Ireland. Today the journey from Belfast to Dublin is less than two hours in a straight line if you breeze over the border without even realizing the dialing code has changed. But back in the 80s the journey was closer to three and a half hours of winding roads and a long, often stressful delay at a heavily fortified border. Fun. Eamonn, now eligible to fight in the All-Ireland Championships and always flying through the qualifiers too comfortably to earn his place, made the trip south at least once a year.

Which must have been annoying, but he said it was far from the home as most Ardoyne kids could hope to travel in those days. So he's like he he was like special that he got to go. They said 10 kids were piled into a dilapidated red minibus on the way from the 1984 All-Ireland finals on this occasion, with three adults sitting up front approaching the border from Dundalk. The young fighters were halfway through a raucous alphabet game that required the naming of as many animals as possible with each letter until you stuttered and lost one of your three lives. It's like Mario Brothers, you lose your three lives. At the bus, as the bus slowed down to join the sullen queue of vehicles waiting to pass through the military checkpoint, Patsy called for some decorum until they were safely on the other side.

They said not that they expected any trouble, they had their papers and proof and all that kind of shit, but you never know. So when they pulled up, they said everyone out. Fuckin' pulled them over to the side of the road at Rifle Point and everything like that. So Patsy said, they're only kids for fuck's sake, what are we doing?

You know, there's a bunch of kids back here, they're like 12. They said everyone on're only kids for fuck's sake, what are we doing? You know, there's a bunch of kids back here, there are like 12. They said everyone on your knees, hands behind your head, their personal bags and everything was rummaged through and all that kind of shit. And then, you know, this was out in the rain and everything like that. And then they said, up and on your way, let's go here.

And this though, this seemingly small thing, really pissed Aiman off. Sure. Now he's, yeah. You're getting us out in the rain to search our shit? That is like, and it said it politicized a lot of the fighters too. The other ones that didn't give a shit

about any of this stuff were like, what the fuck, why are they doing this to us? Now they're all good and mad, yeah. Yeah, so they thought that basically they did this purely because they're assholes, there's no other reason there. So they say he decided when he got home that two could play at that game. What's he gonna do?

Well he's gonna get involved in riots as a child. Ah. They said he still never missed training and continued to win all the fights or tournaments that he was entered into, but away from boxing he gravitated toward a harder crowd and stepped up his contributions to the war against the Brits. Gone were the days of building fake barricades with his pals and hurling little more than verbal abuse at passing soldiers.

He was now stealing up to the front lines of the riots alongside teenagers four or five years his senior and it was stones and rocks and paint bombs Now hurled the soldiers way Isabelle did her best to limit his participation, but he was always out there. She couldn't stop him basically Friends would knock on the door to warn her that amen had been spotted wearing rubber gloves in the thick of the trouble and She would go running into the heart of the riot in her slippers and grab him by the neck. No rioting tonight, let's go. She'd take him in.

That's over here. Oh come on, Ma, just one Molotov cocktail. No. Not in front of my friends, Mom. No, no Molotov cocktails tonight. You've had plenty of Molotov cocktails, but no Molotov cocktails until after you eat your dinner. I'm sorry. Mom, I had to bring bricks to this one. All the vegetables too. You're eating every last drop of it before I'm gonna let you do anything with Molotov cocktails.

It's my turn to bring the cocktails. Tough. So basically at this one time she physically pushed him home and heard onlookers describing her as a lunatic while people from the press, photographers, were snapping pictures.

She turned her son around to face the lenses of the camera and she said, go ahead, take his photo and put it on the front page so maybe they'll lock him up and keep him safe. So the cops weren't really aware of Eamonn quite yet, but his gang is making a name for themselves here. One day, Eamonn was walking through the district on his way to the shop when he saw his friends

waiting at the bus stop. What are you guys doing? He shouted. Yeah, they said, we've been summoned by to Connolly House, come with us. And he said, all right then I'll go sure what the fuck let's do it. So Connolly House was the was like a police headquarters on the Anderson Town Road five miles and two bus journeys to the west. It was the political home of the provosts and Amon's mates were due to attend an informal hearing to

discuss reports of their increasingly anti-social behavior. This is when they're the paramilitary people have basically taken over the area and how they have their own little police force type of deal and that's what they're getting called in to talk about what the fuck are you guys doing. Upon arrival the group stood there, all five of them, heads bowed, listened to the charges against them, and suddenly a tall bearded man entered the room and went along the line of individuals and made personalized threats.

Oh, right at him. Pointed at him and went breakable, shootable, shootable, breakable. Oh, so only two insults? Yeah, that's it, but those are the only two. You're either shootable or breakable one of the two As McGee when he gets to McGee he pauses Taking a little back by because he's so much younger than all the other kids are 17 18. He's 13

So they're like, what the fuck are you doing here? Basically? And he said he said to him you be in bed every night by nine o'clock And he said, he said to him, you be in bed every night by nine o'clock. That was his sentence basically. You've been sentenced to be, I'll kill these ones, but you go to fucking bed and hang out with your mother. Sure. So anyway, he's getting to be kind of well known

to people now, because he's ballsy. And also the boxing too. People are kind of impressed that he can actually fight. And also, he's Doc's son, his dad is known throughout them too, and he's known as the wild one here. So, Eamon liked to get involved with everything. One morning, getting dressed for school, three men knock on the door.

They walked him several streets away, blindfolded him. He's a child, mind you, and spun him around to disorient him before depositing him in a supposedly unknown house. There he was laid on the floor of a back room, his arms spread wide as if in crucifixion, with heavy men kneeling into his back and forcing him to maintain the stress position until his muscles trembled in agony. They wanted names and information on neighborhood vandals, drug peddlers, and joyriders, but Eamon wouldn't say shit.

Not talking. He could hear the sound of the house owner's own children readying themselves for school in the bedrooms above. When the house fell silent, he was pushed out the door and sent on his way. Eamon went to school that day and said nothing about what had happened, but he knew what house he'd been in and who had done the interrogating. Almost thirty years later, he saw that man in the shamrock club. He holds a grudge.

Oh, he holds a long grudge, this guy. Yeah. In his late 60s now, this guy is, he's a recently retired town counselor. Eamon, shit-faced and pissed off. That whiskey bent in hell bad. Oh, here we go. He said, do you remember what you did to me that morning? He said, and whispered menacingly into the man's ear as he sat in the bar. Oh, right up to his face.

Oh yeah, hey, do you remember me? And he said, do you remember what you did to me? And he said, I was a kid getting ready for school just like your own kids were getting ready for school and you dragged me out of my mother's house and tortured me. The man physically shaking got up to leave and Eamon was held back by his friends as he's shouting, for what, for what? He's trying to kill the guy basically. So this guy, lucky to get away with his life there.

No kidding. Holy shit. So anyway, he is also, he's being spied on, not spied on in a bad way, but they're keeping an eye on him, the local Irish Republican army here, they're keeping an eye on him, the local Irish Republican Army here. They're keeping an eye on him because they think that he's got potential. Yeah.

Sure, he's a bit of a out there kid and he drinks a lot still and he's doing all this shit, but still, he's got balls and that's really what's needed the most here. So they said there was no doubt that kids like him were what they needed here, basically. So he said there was no doubt that kids like him were what they needed here basically. So he was monitored for another year and then they approached him with an invitation to join the IRA's youth wing. Wow, nice. Without hesitation he accepted.

He hated the Brits and he said fuck it, I'll do it. Why not? Within days he was sworn in and was on active service. His first job was siphoning gas from the cars of unsuspecting owners to guarantee there was a supply for the Molotov cocktails that they would hurl at the army during riots. In the early hours of December 4th, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan. This assailant starts firing at him and the suspect he's been identified as Luigi Nicholas man, Johnny became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history. It was meant to so terror is walking the people to a true

issue listen to law and crimes Luigi exclusively on one degree plus enjoying one degree plus one degree app Spotify or Apple podcasts. Luigi exclusively on Wondery Plus. You can join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Spotify, or Apple podcasts. Lamont Jones' world is shattered when his cousin dies in custody just weeks after entering prison. The official report says natural causes, but bruises and missing teeth tell a different story. From Wondery comes Death County PA, a chilling, true story of corruption and cover-ups that begins as one man's search for answers, but soon reveals a disturbing pattern.

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You can binge all episodes of Death County PA early and ad free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Suck it out. Wow, that's a fun job. Five gallon drums were secretly deposited in street drains and it was Aymans responsibility to ensure the hidden fuel sources in his area were kept topped up and ready to go. In the gutters, just got barrels. Wow.

Stick your hose in and start filling it, that's wild. Soon he progressed to securing the second vital element of a petrol bomb, a glass receptacle to hold the combustible liquid. Yeah, you can't just put that in a fucking Dixie cup. You gotta, you know, need the glass. Have some protection around here, man. Yeah, it's gotta be able to hold a flaming thing, you know, all that. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Solo couple burn. It's obviously gonna melt. They said this required trips to the old Ardoin streets early in the morning to hijack the

local milk float and relieve the startled driver of every empty glass bottle in his vehicle. He just hijacked the milkman. That's pretty fucking funny. That is funny. The orders when hijacking vehicles were clear and followed to a T. The most important of all was that the drivers were always to be left unharmed and allowed time to gather their personal belongings and exit the vehicle.

So they robbed them like in Goodfellas when young Jimmy Conway would rob a guy and slip a 50 into his wallet and go, you may know who we are, but we know who you are while holding their driver's license, you know, shake his hand on the way out. There's a bunch of not Italian guys that did it. Yeah, they're doing it too. So, yeah, that's what they did. Both parties to the hijacking knew this, and violence during the process was almost unheard of.

The replica guns the young provost carried and waved in the driver's face has also helped avoid heroic and potentially deadly responses from the hijackees. also helped avoid heroic and potentially deadly responses from the hijackees. So he's in this youth group of the IRA and they said as you progressed, you naturally learned your trade and received more responsibility from the group

as you get better. So around this time, a bunch of well-known establishments began burning to the ground in the dark of night. This arson's happening. So the Ardoyne bus depot was a six man job. One ladder up the wall and another down on the other side. 100 buses were there, were then silently soaked in petrol and only when the final vehicle was drenched in siphoned four star petrol, five of the squad were safely back over

the wall. Did the remaining volunteers set the entire fleet alight? So they were really fucking, they burned a whole bus depot. Wow, Jesus Christ. They were disciplined, they did their military operations and which the success of the mission was the only focus. Each operative carried a walkie talkie so they could have lookouts posted

in case anybody was coming. But there was never any verbal communication. Basically, if the radio silence was broken by the static of someone just pressing the button, that meant abort. Oh. So if one guy just accidentally pressed, he dropped it and he went to catch it

and held it too hard and fucking keyed it up, yeah, it's over. So that's interesting here. The benefits of this discipline became apparent when they were interrupted while trying to fuck with a local Honda dealership. Basically they were able to get away as the cars were all burned because they had

their walkie talkies and their lookout system set up, which is pretty interesting. So on other occasions, though, they say the best laid plans didn't work out. Shortly after the aforementioned telecommunications transit was dropped off, a hijacked Interflora model was cruising down the crumlin road when an R.U.C. officer from Flack Street pulled his revolver and gestured for the vehicle to stop at the checkpoint. Instead, the young driver put his foot down. Swerving in and out of the queuing of the cars, he sped away down the Crumlin Road and hung a left onto Hillview Road. Seconds later, he was screeching

around the corner onto Old Park Road before another left took him onto Ardoin Avenue. He dove right up Jamaica Street before making a final sharp left into the square where the BT van and other vehicles destined for the barricades were waiting patiently. Unfortunately three or four RUC Land Rovers had also joined the party. That's the Brits. With no time to react, the Interflora van was crashed into a fence and the driver bolted before it came to a complete stop. By the time the police on the scene could react,

the young hijacker was in front of a door of a sympathetic house out the back door, across the street, and through the front door of another, and into the coal bunker in the backyard. What? So then basically anybody could get away like that unless they caught you physically like you were going to get away because you, anybody would house you, you never knew where they were unless you're going to go house to house and deal

with all this shit to find one guy. So they said it was an exhilarating game for a teenager to play. It's fun. Interesting. They said at least 19 of the child soldiers, one a 12 year old girl, were killed during the troubles. Whoa.

Yeah, and countless more fell in the hands of security forces and spent hours or days in godforsaken places like the Castle Re Detention Center in East Belfast. Within this rectangular box of a building, the RUC would beat and torture confessions out of hundreds of people, many of them entirely innocent. Nice, cigarettes were stubbed out on faces, lighters were held to testicles.

God damn it. Okay, that's something. Ugh. Would you rather have a lighter on your testicles God damn it. Okay, that's something. Would you rather have a lighter on your testicles or your arm on a gutter and stomped on? I mean, well, legs were stamped on until bone fracture. I might take the ball lighter. Yeah, I'd take the Zippo on the sack for sure. I might take that.

Severe beatings were administered, mock strangulations were carried out, and even reports of waterboarding have emerged years after the events. That was considered a bridge too far even for these fucking people who would jump on your leg till it broke. And then 20 years later after that our country was like, what's wrong with that? It's fine.

It's a problem. It's a problem. So yeah, this is a big deal. They said it was a notorious hellhole, not just among nationalists, but throughout the world. As late as the early 1990s, Amnesty International was still issuing urgent action appeals on behalf of youths trapped within the walls,

held without charge or legal representation, suffering unimaginable physical abuse at the hands of police officers. So, Eamon of course was picked up by the RUC and taken here in the mid 1980s. His next door neighbor was also arrested and would be charged with hijacking a city bus. Eamon was only 15 at the time

and his father was allowed to accompany him in the back of the police Land Rover, through the doors of this place and into a series of interrogations. The teaching was to say nothing at all, so Eamon wouldn't say anything at all. Yeah. I mean, that's like mob style, you in there,

I don't know what I got to say to you. What do you wanna, what do you, It's okay. As I told him to go fuck his mother, bing, pow, boom. Anyway, three different RUC detectives tried their luck but he was not giving him shit. Finally, after hours and hours of this, they appeared to give up and walked him back toward reception.

On the way out, they paused by an open door and inside the room, black blinds were pulled down over the windows and a young man was sat in a chair, receiving a savage beating from two policemen. Hey, check this out first, yeah. Basically, they said they stopped him and made him watch this. Like, this is where you're headed. They said they were punching him all in the head.

So they said that it was a good beating that he saw. And the guy said to Aiman, men are paid to make boys like you talk, you know. That's what he said here. But he didn't say shit. That was that. He said it just made him more pissed off. That was that. Now, 1987 comes along. OK, he had just left the gym where he was working out some fighting shit because he had a match the next week at the 1987 Gaelic Games, which involves Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Canada.

Okay? What the hell, throw them in there. It was to be the first time Eamon would represent his country and he couldn't wait to do it. It was like, I'm going to be, you know, all into this shit. He's 16. He's doing, you know, his body's filling out a little bit. He's doing great. Can't wait for this fight.

Now, they said other international boxing stars have continued on up at the drive and into their houses when they saw the commotion on Brompton Street, but not Amon. A full-scale riot was raging, and he was drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Most of the fighters would just go home, stay in the house. He was like, oh, I gotta get involved in this. So they said, sprinting down the street,

he stashed his gym bag behind a garden wall and found some comrades distributing petrol bombs from a side entry near the barricades. He slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, took a milk bottle filled with gasoline and emerged onto Brompton Park where he bent over to light the soaked cloth wick that flowed out the neck of the glass bottle. At the same time, one of the RUC guys had turned the corner from Ballum Drive and was headed toward the flame-haired rider, the noise of the chaos masking its approach. From the hatch on the roof of the armored vehicle,

the officer appeared and pointed his rifle down at Eamon. When no further than 10 meters away, he pulled the trigger. As Eamon was still hunched over and struggling with his lighter, the three-inch plastic bullet whizzed past the struggling with his lighter, the three inch plastic bullet whizzed past the top of his nose and struck him square on the right side of the chest. Oh my god. Yeah, shot him in the chest. He reeled back but didn't fall. By the time the shock had subsided, the pain had taken over.

He found himself in a safe house being attended to by a local IRA nurse. The muscles of his upper torso had protected him for more serious harm, but he was ruled out of the Gaelic games, and he had a bruise for like 20 years, basically. Yeah. Not good, not good at all. From a rubber bullet in the chest.

Yeah, I don't know if they said a plastic bullet. I don't know if that means rubber over there or what. Not sure. Maybe they had rubber ones, or plastic ones that they break up and are pain in the ass. I'm not sure. So the author of this book says, I heard that story in the homemade gym

that Eamon's brother Noel has set up and still uses twice a week. Louie the Lip I've always called him. Eamon told me on the drive to meet his second oldest sibling on account of that big lower lip of his. He's an absolute gentleman and a scholar. You'll meet him and wonder how the fuck he's related to me. Great guy.

You'll never understand how we're related." They said it's certainly difficult to discern many similarities between the two. Physically, Knoll is much taller of a man with softer features and a darker complexion. He moved to Newcastle in the early 90s and believes that he never knew what it was like to feel totally at ease until he settled into this tranquil slice of chillness here. They said politics or the war on the street

never interested him, and the first thing he did when he left Belfast was to enroll his kids in an integrated, non-denominational school to ensure they grew up not being sectarian and you know hating the Protestants and all that kind of shit so yeah they said in contrast to amen he comes across as an open unguarded and a more innocent human being Noel says quote that's right as amen pulls his top up to show me exactly where the bullet had struck him wrong place wrong time as usual this is his brother saying this to Eamon with

the author there he says wrong place wrong time as usual you were just coming home with a pint of milk or something weren't you? No What? Not even close. He had a pint of molotov cocktail. Yeah a pint of molotov cocktail? Yeah, a pint of explosion. Noel, like the rest of his family, had never heard the true story.

What? Yeah, he never knew it because that's what he told his mom. So they say there was a pause before Eamon, somewhat sheepishly it appeared to me, enlightened him. The plastic bullet that thumped into Eamon that day was just one of the estimated 125,000 that the RUC fired throughout the Troubles. It was not until a man threatened to kill his two young daughters in North Wales in 2002 that the first bullet of this kind was shot by police on the British mainland, meaning not in Ireland. Perhaps life was less valuable in the Catholic ghettos of Northern Ireland. Indeed, plastic or rubber bullets have ended at least 14 lives in the province

over the years and blinded remain many more. Yeah, they use these in prison and guys get killed all the time by these fucking things. A lot of times they get hit in the head and they'll get die from the force of it rather than, you know, it doesn't like go into their brain, but the force of it kills them. The British government was fully aware of their lethal nature shortly after their introduction in the 1970s, but preferred out of court settlements when someone raised an objection, rather than allowing scientific reports

recommending the removal from the conflict to see the light of day. Very nice, Jesus Christ. So Eamon said, that bastard shot to kill me that night. He tried to murder me So he tells him though Now his parents are gonna split up here. Oh by the late 80s his dad is drinking a lot And we're talking a lot for Northern Ireland, which is yeah

I mean would kill any man in this country in 24 hours. Like a lot for Ireland's a lot a lot. He kept himself, they said topped up throughout the day with what he and his friends mysteriously referred to as a Hurly Gurly. Oh, a Hurly Gurly local barman knew to fill the largest glass in hand with the strongest fortified wine in the pub. When this was the order. Just a giant glass of super strong fortified wine. By nightfall, he was drunk and belligerent and at times violent when he returned home, where his family was staying here. In the end, Isabel couldn't take it anymore

and when they, remember that house they were waiting to move into while it got fixed up? When that happened, she moved back and they, he stayed behind, Doc stayed in the other house. After more than 20 years of an eventful marriage, they were separated for good, and yeah, Eamon basically said that the youngest child, they were talking about how it's mostly,

usually that's the most affected by the splits, but he was the only boy still living at home, but he was so, I guess he was embarrassed by it all, he said later on. Sure, yeah. Yeah, so they said he got through school, he departed with a score of 99% in his final technical drawing exam.

And could often be found working alongside his old man in the construction business. Doc called his son Rocky II, but never understood, they never explained to anybody why he called him Rocky II. Just for fun. Yeah, like so weird. It doesn't make sense.

He's like a blind squirrel, that's why. In the book they thought maybe it meant cause Rocky won in Rocky part two. He beat Apollo Creed, it was a draw the first time. So maybe you're Rocky too. Fuck Rocky one where it's a draw. It's a bad one, yeah. You're the winning Rocky.

So they said together they rebuilt or repointed much of the brickwork in the Ardoyne and later worked on the chimneys of the Unity flats a mile down the road toward the city center. Amon would carry the HOD, we figured that out, that's a number, the brick thing. Remember, and small town murder, someone was a HOD carrier. Oh, right, right, right. Yeah, it's the brick thing.

It's the mortar thing that carries, right? Yeah, I think so. And then lay the brick while Terrence renewed the cement pointing between the masonry They were a good team for despite a shared weakness for the bottle the two McGee boys were both blessed with strong work ethic And enjoyed a tired sense of satisfaction that a day's physical graft brings They liked building a wall and seeing a nice wall built is what that's supposed to mean Yeah They liked building a wall and seeing a nice wall built is what that's supposed to mean. So they said for years, Eamon had earned decent money by scouring the district for empty gas canisters and returning them to a local supplier.

When even younger, he worked for the stalls of Summer Carnivals on the Holy Cross football pitch and now the famous Mickey Marley hand-picked him to be the Ardoyne helper when the street entertainer and his faithful steed, Joey, trotted into the district with their hobby horse roundabout. In other words, he cleaned shit up from behind a horse. No fun. Sid Eamon's not afraid of a hard day's work. Here. One time they're repointing the brickwork of an old building in Belfast's city center there. Dad's ladder gave way and he landed teeth first on the pavement.

Holy shit. He has no teeth. Yeah he lost some teeth on that one. It was in a pool of his own blood. They said that day, a few months later, father and son were standing outside a Belfast courtroom to determine to gain fair compensation. They limbered up for the negotiations with a few dawn pints in the nearby Dockers Club, and Eamon was in the mood to play hardball

by the time the lawyer arrived. 6,000 the solicitor offered by way of an opening gambit. No was Eamon's firm response. Eight? Not a chance, yeah. No. No counter offer, just no. No, gotta go.

10? No. No. When the beleaguered brief raised it to 12,000 pounds, 16-year-old Aiman shook his head and accompanied his smiling father on an almighty day session, or an almighty all- day session to celebrate.

Or shook his hand on a set. So yeah, 12 is okay. They'll take 12. On another occasion, they instinctively ducked for cover when the rattle of machine gun fire came out from across the lower arm. You rode. Someone had just been murdered. Amen remarked to his dad as he hoisted the long handled brick hot back onto his shoulder. An actual fact five had been killed and another nine were injured when two UDA men sprayed a betting shop with 44 bullets from a semi-automatic rifle and 9mm pistol.

Holy shit. Eamon loved his mother a lot, but there were certain things that he would only tell Doc and Isabelle Newitt, like all the shit they did at night. He didn't tell mom, I'm going out and throwing Molotov cocktails. He'd just do it with his dad. So, yeah, so she'd, I guess, some days, she'd come home in the afternoon

and find some militant Republican paraphernalia, a pair of gloves, a whistle, a replica gun, just lying around, and she'd toss it over a back wall into a derelict site behind the house which she then would say what the fuck amen why'd you have that shit and he would brush it off he'd say quote fuck's sake mom not in the RA okay fuck's sake I'm not in there does just relax but Isabelle was always aware that her husband the kids, knew more than she did.

When they were still together, she had heard him slip out of bed all the time to ease open the bathroom window and allow Eamon and his comrades to scale the drainpipe and squeeze into the house. Oh my. Coming in from a mission. She knew that behind the scenes, that dad was using what was left of his influence to take care of things for E for amen when he ran into trouble But you know he said that amen was the dad's son basically

Now the day before st. Patrick's Day 1988 Which I would assume that's your pregame and the day before st. Patrick's Day. You got it. You got to prime the pump Yeah, you gotta gotta do it gotta get it ready So Terrence doc Doc, Dad here, set off for Milltown Cemetery on the Falls Road. There, in the plot that they were working on, three IRA volunteers shot dead by the SAS in Gibraltar the week before were due to be buried

in front of thousands of mourners. As the final coffin was being lowered into the ground, UDA member Michael Stone threw two hand grenades into the crowd and began shooting indiscriminately. What? Holy shit. As people panicked, scattered and dove for cover behind gravestones, dozens of youths and young men chased after the loyalist assassin as he ran toward the M1 motorway.

Every 10 or 15 yards, Stone would turn to hurl another grenade or fire frowns from the two guns he was brandishing. Jesus throwing grenades at you that's crazy. Finally he was caught and beaten unconscious before the RUC arrived just in time to spare him the fatal mob justice. By the time the smoke and debris had settled, Jerry Adams had resumed his graveside oration. Three were dead and 60 were injured from the gunfire. And grenade shrapnel and everything else. Holy shit. Back in a friend's house in the Ardoin, Eamon watched the footage of the massacre on television

and said I gotta get involved in this shit more. Yeah, that looks great. So Isabelle was at her home, here, she was scrubbing the kitchen floor when a neighbor burst in to warn her that Aiman had just been arrested. Oh. Yeah. She sprinted down to the barricades only to be told by onlookers that he'd been put in the back of an RUC Jeep and driven away.

A couple of hours later, she was back at her house staring out the front window in silent prayer when she spied Eamon walking up the path. Running out and near hysterics, she grabbed her son and shaking him violently, screamed at the top of her voice, do you want to get shot? Is that what you want? Give me a gun and I'll shoot you right now if that's what you want. The certainty of firing that bullet into her own child may have been easier for her than to live with the constant worrying and wondering Where her baby was and what danger he was in but in truth despite his actions that day

Amon was gradually drifting away from that lifestyle now approaching his 17th birthday He had a decision to make on how committed he was to the IRA's war against the British occupation, because he's got a boxing thing too. You've got to pick your fucking career choice here. They said it would have been the easiest thing in the world to continue down the path he was on, but deep down he knew it wasn't for him. He had seen friends die on that path and others play a leading role in atrocities that any man would struggle to live with until the end of his days.

So they said the ease with which he or any young disenfranchised man born in the Ardoyne in the 1970s could have chosen the Arma-Lite over the ballot box still numbs Eamon to this day. I asked him if there was one watershed moment, one defining incident so traumatizing that it repelled him from the militant Republican cause. But he just shakes his head and leaves a heavy, pregnant silence hanging in the air. After what seems like an age in which I wonder whether he has forgotten my presence, I start to move on to boxing matters when he suddenly interrupts, �See the likes of Bootsy Begley, the Shank Hill Road bomber,� he begins. �We were

the same age and knocked about with each other all our lives. We were in the youth group together. We drank together and yet I had no idea he was in the RA. I hadn�t a fucking clue. Neither him nor Sean Kelly, who I see every day working in the shop around the corner. He pauses again as if still amazed by the fact before continuing, quote, that could very easily have been me, you know, we things like that. It's hard to stop thinking about them. And we Bootsy was a total gentleman. I know what he done was totally wrong and absolutely disgusting, but he was always a

gentleman. Another pause and this time I drift away too back to that Saturday afternoon in 1993 when Begley and Kelly walked into Frizzle's fish shop on Shank Hill Road with a bomb and on an 11 second fuse. They were to clear the civilians out and blow up a UDA meeting believed to be taking place upstairs, but the bomb exploded prematurely, killing nine Protestants and Begley himself. It was later revealed that the UDA meeting had ended early and the intended targets were long gone when the blast ripped through the building. In the bloody aftermath, loyalists murdered 14 civilians inside a week and eight in one sitting when the UDA gunman

yelled trick or treat before opening fire on a Halloween party with an AK-47. Oh for heaven's sake. Trick or treat bitches, that's crazy. That's dirty man. No shit. Man, so he said that, shaking his head, Aiman murmured, I wonder how Sean Kelly can live with that.

Having killed all, having all that shit, blood on his hands basically. So boxing starts to take up more of his time. Here we go. Yeah, he's winning title after title in the juniors, and you know, he's doing great. They said a mixture of pride and the knowledge that Eamon would probably just lose it has

caused Patsy to hold keep hold of Eamonn's old amateur record book to this day. Watching him thumb through the wad of thin-fated pages where the letter L for loss is a rarity, I can see that the footage of the fights is flickering vividly in the old man's mind. He proudly points out the big metal securing victories, big medal securing victories, but other seemingly less significant bouts appear to stir more emotions. He remembers Tommy Mc, oh my God, McMenemy. It's like, it's got the word enemy in it.

Yeah, that's a great boxing name. McMenemy. McDonald's enemy, yeah. Yeah, I'm a McMenemy. I will fucking murder you in your bed. A big strong fella from Twin Towns in Donegal. He was more powerful than Patsy's guy, but Eamon had the class and would cut him to shreds each time they fought. Another Donegal man, Anthony McFadden from, oof, Dunfannagy, Dun-fan-agy?

I don't know, was even more ferocious. He had knocked McMenemy out inside 60 seconds and Patsy sent his charge out with a warning about his punching prowess. First round, bang! Aiman is all over the place, Patsy recalls with a laugh. I honestly thought it was all over, but he stayed on his feet and he held on for dear life and then his head cleared and he totally outboxed the kid to victory. Outstanding.

They said McGee could bang too. However, Patsy's eyes widen when he describes how he left a lad from, wow, Ennis Killen, sprawled out on the ring floor on the National Stadium in Dublin. As the young boxer lay prostrate on the canvas, his left leg suddenly began twitching horribly. As he stood in the neutral corner, blood drained from Eamon's face as he stared, transfixed at that spasming limb and willed his beaten opponent to rise. He said, I didn't mean to do it, Patsy. He said quietly as his trainer let him away.

You're all right, son. Don't worry. It'll be fine here. The passing referee then made an ill-advised and insensitive remark about Eamon being a vicious bastard and he Patsy said what do you want him to do it's a boxing contest he's trying to win and so's the other guy he almost killed him though half an hour later boxer and coach were sat in one of the arena's back rows grabbing a

bite to eat in between bouts Patsatsy always bought a big cool box of sandwiches and salad and chicken legs so neither he nor his fighters would have to go looking around for food as the tournament progressed. Patsy Aiman whispered, Patsy looked over and saw Aiman nodding his head down over there. He said go off, go and offer him a sandwich and a drop of tea Patsy suggested the guy who he knocked out Yeah, he felt bad. You go. Why don't you go down there and give him a sandwich and it you know, Patsy said that Amen approached somewhat Timorously with a chicken sandwich in one hand and a mug of hot tea in the other Tentative and uneasy with each other at first they were soon chatting side-by-side until amen was called to get ready for the final

They didn't mention what had just happened in the ring, but both boys understood It was just an occupational hazard of the sport. They loved Good luck on the final mate. The guy told him There you go. So thanks a lot So Anyway, he get in trouble a lot too here They called him the biggest troublemaker in every Irish squad he would make.

Everybody, everybody says that about him. Well, there's a few things here. At times, at one point, he let off all the fire extinguishers in a hotel. Thought that was fun. Not bad, yeah. Just empty those out. Other times, he was accused of stealing beer in Scotland, but he ended up being clear to that. They just assumed it was him, but then they found out

he was actually in the ring when the beer was stolen, so it couldn't have been him. So. Imagine being such a piece of shit that anything goes missing and they're like, clearly it was that guy. Yeah, they literally had to, he had to prove what time he was fighting,

and they're like, okay, yeah, it couldn't have been him then, but we still think it was you somehow. In the early hours of December 4th, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of Midtown Manhattan. This assailant pulls out a weapon and starts firing at him. We're talking about the CEO of the biggest private health insurance corporation in the world. And the suspect. He has been identified as Luigi Nicholas man, Johnny became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history was

targeted premeditated and it's a so terror. I'm Jesse Weber host of Luigi produced by law and crime and twist this is more than a true crime investigation we explore a uniquely American moment that could change the country forever. He's awoken the people to a true issue. I mean maybe this would lead rich and powerful people to acknowledge the barbaric nature of our health care system. Listen to law and crimes Luigi exclusively on one degree plus

enjoying one degree plus the one degree at Spotify or Apple podcasts. In the early hours of December 4th, 2024, CEO Brian Thompson stepped out onto the streets of midtown Manhattan. This assailant starts firing at him. And the suspect. He has been identified as Luigi Nicholas Mangione. Became one of the most divisive figures in modern criminal history. I was meant to sow terror so terror is awoking the people

to a true issue listen to law and crimes Luigi exclusively on one degree plus enjoying one degree plus one degree at Spotify or Apple podcasts. Last year long crime brought you the trial that captivated the nation is accused of hitting her boyfriend Boston police officer John O'Keefe her car. Karen Reed is arrested and charged with second degree murder. The six week trial resulted in anything but resolution. We continue to find ourselves at an impasse. I'm declaring a mistrial in this case. But

now the case is back in the spotlight and one question still lingers. Did Karen Reed kill John O'Keefe? The evidence is overwhelming that Karen Reed is innocent. How does it feel to be a cop killer, Karen? I'm Kristin Thorn, investigative reporter with Law and Crime and host of the podcast, Karen, The Retrial. This isn't just a retrial,

it's a second chance at the truth. I have nothing to hide. My life is in the balance and it shouldn't be. I just want people to go back to who the victim is in this. It's not her. Listen to episodes of Karen, The Retrial, exclusively and ad free on Wondery Plus. I don't know how.

I know how you did it, kid. So morning of 1987 here, one morning, the Ulster finals, So, morning of 1987 here, one morning, the Ulster finals, Eamon woke early with a hangover. Good hangover on his early morning here. Rolls out of bed, crawls to the bathroom to puke, and does that. His friend is there, and he's like, what the fuck are you doing, man?

His friend said, there's only one thing for it, mate, meaning this hangover. And Eamon said what's that? His friend said hair the dog, get up, let's go. Still nowhere near sober, the best young welterweight in the country struggled to the local Gaelic Athletic Association clubhouse where he knew an early morning pint would be easy to find. With the previous night's successes still coursing through his veins, his bloodstream only needed a gentle top before Eamon was again borderline blotto. Never one to do things by half, McGee downed six more loggers before sauntering into St.

George's Boxing Gym on the markets area of Belfast with his gear slung over his shoulder. He was up against his old friend, hard hitting Anthony McFadden, and Patsy looked on in bemusement as Eamon waltzed around the Donegal man throughout the first round, then tottered back to his stool. Three steps from the corner, Patsy's jaw dropped. I can smell the fucking drink off of you from here for fuck's sake he hissed Haven started breathing through his nose and said no. No, I don't know what you're talking about He still won the Ulster title that day

Somehow even being shit-faced. Yeah But Patsy tried to reason with him and they even invited Ex-Olympians and pros to the gym to help hammer home the point that there was only a very small window to forge a successful boxing Career said you can't live this life come in drunk and expect to win fights. It's crazy. This in your 50s No, he's also street fighting which is a problem really yeah They had a lot of a lot of him and his brothers all were fighting in the streets quite a bit here But amen was the one doing it all the time He says I was never went looking for it, but trouble just always found me. Okay. That's what he said. He said, um, you know, couldn't help his law. Couldn't help it.

Basically. Um, I guess they're talking about one night here. Uh, they said they came from outside the district to try their luck as well, particularly New Lodge. When the Ardoyne or Bone locals separated from the New Lodge crowd upon exiting the Glen Park bar and the alcohol and testosterone fueled young men started squaring up to one another, Eamon was invariably called out to deal with multiple threats in a single night. Like will you come over here and knock these people out for me please? I don't understand the time. Finally he decided to end the confrontations once and for all he gathered a gang of his most trusted cohorts together and They sat drinking indoors one night preparing for the decisive battle while the new lodge lads enjoyed themselves in the bar

So they're they're waiting for these people to have a final brawl Just before closing time amen positioned his men in various alleyways and entries surrounding their target. It was raining heavily that night so they each tied a plastic bag over their head. It made for an intimidatingly comical look but passersby were much more concerned by the hurly sticks that each grabbed and grasped in their hand as they waited for their quarry to exit the bar. They had sticks, this isn't a fist fight.

The attack was swift, bloody and decisive. Around 40 young men struggled back to the new lodge that night and never again returned to the Ardoin. Another time the three brothers, still living in Northern Ireland joined forces as they did when Patrick began receiving hassle from some thugs in a neighbouring neighbourhood here. They were a formidable trio to go up against. In reality, Eamon on his own could normally take care of any situation that arose.

One night, the three came out of the shamrock and were saying their goodbyes. Noel and Patrick were now married and both wives were present while Eamon was on crutches having damaged his leg in a fall a few days earlier. Suddenly there was a shout of McGee and the group of five turned around to see an angry young man beelining for Eamon. The attacker was a nasty piece of work, a known bully clearly desperate to take a shot at the boxing champ with a few drinks in him. He was across the road and on top of them before the women could scream or Noel or Patrick

could get their fists up. But in one fluid movement, Eamon let the crutches fall, put all his weight on his good foot and stretchered the attacker out cold on the Arredoyne Avenue pavement at one short left cross. Neither his brothers nor their partners could believe the speed at which the shocking incident had transpired. He's just a bad motherfucker. Do we have video of this man fighting?

Yeah, oh yeah, absolutely. Yeah? Yeah, oh tons of it, yeah. Oh, I can't wait to see. He's fighting in the 90s and 2000s, yeah. He's tons of it. He can't be that fast then though, right? No, but we're talking, this is the thing.

Someone in the ring, you might go, well, he's not that great a fighter. On the street, he's 100 times better fighter than anybody he's fucking fighting. Like, you don't understand, or you, but people don't understand how good a fighter's boxers are. Even bad boxers. Like, go fight.

Just pick a random person and go throw a punch. And it's a bad punch Most people don't know how to punch unless you've been taught they don't know it's a hard thing to do To get power behind a punch is very hard to do and the fact that most people don't get in that many fights So they're a boxer doesn't give a shit. What are you gonna do punch them in the face? They don't they're not scared of that that doesn't scare them. So it's a their nose has been mashed plenty. Go ahead and hit me. I don't care That's a it's a different mindset completely Yeah, they said on another occasion a vanquished foe did manage to make clawing contact with McGee and a trip to Mater Hospital

Was required for for three stitches in a torn eyelid. Oh Yeah for three stitches and a torn eyelid. Oh. Yeah. Budgie accompanied him, and after the doctor's needle and thread had patched Eamonn up, the pair walked down the crumlin road to get some food and a Chinese takeaway. While they waited for their dinner,

a pair of hard-looking characters entered, placed an order, and immediately left. Budgie was half-cut, but Eamonn had his wits about him and could innately sense the threat of violence in the air. He pulled his friend outside with him and sure enough the same two guys rounded the corner with baseball bats. Run! Aiman yelled and took up off Antrim Road.

Budgie, drunk and not an athlete, was soon flagging and it wasn't long before the attackers caught up with him. Looking back, Aiman saw him on the ground, writhing and kicking and attempting to dodge or deflect the worst of the blows. McGee didn't hesitate, he ran back, clotheslined the two baseball aficionados off his cowering friend, then raised his fist

in anticipation of a battle. At that precise moment, a siren wailed in the near distance and the aggressors turned on their heels and fled. It turned out to be an ambulance rather than a police van and it picked up poor Budgie and brought him to as a casualty, but by the time they were back in the shamrock a few hours later, Budgie had three of his own stitches to match Amon's. So you go out, you drink, you get knocked around, you go get some stitches and you go back to the bar in the same night. Back to drinking, yeah. stitches to match Amon's. The author said I once asked Patsy if he knew how often his most valuable asset was scrapping

bare knuckled on the street. Of course I did, he barked at me in his own indomitable fashion. Everyone in the district knew what he was like. He missed a multi-nations tournament in Italy in 1988 with two broken knuckles after dealing with some guy behind the shamrock. Broken knuckles? You can break knuckles? Fuck yeah, you can break knuckles.

Absolutely. So he was not concerned When amen came into the gym every week with cuts and bruises and a tournament just around the corner and the guy said that's a rat Was a rarity he replied not many were able to land a meaningful punch on him So he didn't come in with cuts and bruises just hurt hands. He did all the punching not all the taking He had an uncle here apparently that Not all the taking. He had an uncle here, apparently, that dies around this time and that hurts him pretty good here. His uncle Nipper,

his mom's younger brother, said he loved spending time with it. He was a younger guy, so he liked hanging out with them. And he said they went out drinking and laughing till closing time at a bar one night and amen said see you tomorrow nipper He said no yeah the next thing the next morning his mom woke him up and said nippers dead mm-hmm and You know he said he thought it was an April Fool's Joke cuz it was April 1st So he rolled back over and went to sleep And later on his mom said no son, he's really dead.

Yeah, wait till tomorrow. Yeah, he said Nipper had gone to sleep in an armchair in his friend's living room and never woke up. He was 33 years old, just died in an armchair. How drunk did you have to be? Drunk to death is what he was. Holy. Holy shit, man.

So 1989, he's kicking ass. He got to take part in the Gaelic games in Canada and that was the one he was supposed to go to when he got shot the first time. So he's doing great. His friendship with Wayne McCullough continued to strengthen. He also grew close to some other Irish fighters and shit like that. A couple guys here, Paul Griffin of Dublin and Michael Roche, Gordon Joyce, and Paul Buttemer. So they became all real good friends here. They said, in Canada, midnight escapes

through bedroom windows were made and the team coach was pulled over following police reports that those in the back seat were partial to bearing their rear ends to shocked locals in every town they passed through. So why, a bunch of kids, they're mooning in the fucking cars. Another night, Iman, Aiman, brings a young lady back to his hotel room.

Oh yeah. Now, he shares this hotel room with three other boxers. Oh no. This is not a good, not cool, man. Yeah. Apparently she was an older lady, but very, very attractive here. Yeah. And he wanted to make the most of this one night that he would spend with her, because

he was as attractive a woman as he's ever gotten, he thought. Never seen anybody hotter, yeah. After hours of waiting patiently outside, the others started banging on the door. Is it alright? We want to go to sleep now motherfucker, let us in. They sat outside while he plowed this broad. Would you just come already? Oh my god.

They say the two lovebirds giddily ignored the pleas for so long that security was called and proceeded to open the door. Unperturbed, McGee continued with his conquest with the other three looking on, although the pressure eventually got to him and he was forced to conclude his business in the privacy of the bathroom. Yeah.

Yeah, it was largely a harmless stuff, but it was still behavior that was in stark contrast to those of like McCullough, who's will become a future world champion here. Nevertheless, it was McGee who began after that, scratching his crotch furiously between rounds on account of the crabs he got from this lady. She was hot, but boy oh boy,

everybody evidently felt the same way. He flew home with a gold medal and a nice case of crabs after that That'll make you irritated enough to punch people good though what a night That's a not imagine having and no you have gloves on you can't even really scratch real well either That's a night. I don't want to imagine anything right now. Oh God Jesus Christ So yeah, he ended up, in 89 he brought home a silver medal

at the World Junior Championships in San Juan, Puerto Rico as well. So doing fucking great, he beat a Bulgarian, he named Ivan Ivanov, that was the guy's name. Ivan Ivanov. Wow, get some creativity over there here. He beat a gold medal favorite from Cuba and he did real well here. Apparently he lost to the East German Enrico Berger here. I think it was a decision, but the silver medal from a world championship is a pretty goddamn good thing. It's not bad here.

Shane Mosley, Sugar Shane Mosley. Sugar Shane, yeah. And Joel Casamayor, who's another champion fighter, were also, they also medaled that year. So that's who was there, a lot of great young fighters. I mean, shit, Mosley was a huge star for a long time. A long time, yeah. So, but he was beaten in the final though.

That's what happened here. Came through but he was beaten in the final though that's what happened here. He came through a tough draw to reach the final in the Welterweight division before being beaten by the German here. He lost the decision on the new computer machines by 17 points to 10 points so he lost here. So anyway here, Eamon arrived home to people praising him. Obviously the Belfast Telegraph had the headline reading Eamon High. Eamon. Yeah.

That makes, I would have said Eamon High. What does that mean? The fuck is that? Is he drinking or is he doing drugs? What's going on? Yeah, Eamon High in a show picture of him all fucked up on the front like half slouched out of a chair Is it a religious thing on high? On high. Yeah, that's maybe that's it here very Catholic

So that described McGee as a rarity in the sport in that he can box or fight depending on what is required and a clever Boxer with a punch that comes Naturally to him. Yeah. Yeah. The Irish head coach said the boy has everything going for him. There's no doubt in my mind that one day he can become an Olympic champion. There it is.

Not too fucking bad. Somebody tried to tempt him into turning pro at that point, but he wanted to go to the 1990 Commonwealth Games in Auckland. He said, I always wanted to go to the 1990 Commonwealth Games in Auckland. He said, I always wanted to go to the Commonwealth Games and I knew that if I came home from Puerto Rico with a medal, I'd be in line to go. So the apparently though, the Ulster boxing council vetoed the idea of McGee fighting against Eddie Fisher to see who deserved the spot on the plane to New Zealand. They said that for some reason they wouldn't let him do it. Not sure why. They said yeah, they said that you can't ignore the fact that Eamonn not only stopped a Bulgarian in

Puerto Rico, had the Cuban favorite twice on the floor and then beat a very good Puerto Rican in front of 8,000 wildly partisan home fans and Standards there in my view were higher than either Ulster or the Irish basically they say You they want him to fight a guy to see who goes and this boxing council said no he should get it He doesn't have to fight this fucking guy to get it October 1989 Okay, here we go. Well, I'll give you his quote about it then I'll tell you the story here He said some guys asked me for a cigarette outside a pizza place on the Ardine Road I knew they wanted trouble

Then suddenly they started on me. I was hit by a broken bottle in the throat They asked for a cigarette, and he was like oh, this is gonna be trouble. What kind of place is this? Dude, you can, you know, have you ever been places like this? I've been plenty of places. Where people ask you for a cigarette and you're like, uh oh. Not even, they don't even have to ask you for a cigarette. You just know trouble when it's happening. You know what I mean? I've been in a million places like that where I'm like, okay, those motherfuckers are looking for trouble. Yeah I don't know just that's just a sixth sense or just whatever the fucker. I was a bouncer I worked in a bar so I think I understand. You see things happen I think like that so if you do that yeah. So and this guy's just very

street smart so he said I was hit by a broken bottle in the throat. I pushed my four fingers down deep into the wound to stem the bleeding. Oh my god. It was that deep Holy shit or fingers Wow. Oh my god He's for fit four fingers is a lot to put in any any hole in anybody put it that way. Yeah That'll make a hole that you're... That'll make somebody howl. Holy shit. Wow. Oh my God. He said it was only a quarter inch away from my jugular. If they hit that, I would have been gone.

Yeah. So he was standing outside beside John Connolly, his buddy from before that we talked about, in a pizza takeaway on Antrim Road when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Have you a fag, mate? That's what the guy said to him. Oh boy. No I don't, buddy, he said.

Minutes later he was walking down the narrow Phoenix entry carrying his pizza box when he felt a strange warm sensation flowing down his back. Reaching to the side of the neck he was able to fit four fingers into the gaping wound, up to his knuckles. Yikes. Holy shit. Turning around he saw the stranger who had just requested a cigarette with the remains

of a broken bottle in one hand and an iron bar in the other. Blood was dripping from the jagged edge of the bottle. The man dropped it and swung with the metal pole, but Eamon managed to avoid the swipe and get his hand on the weapon. After a brief struggle, he wrenched it free and went on the offensive himself. Now he's got one hand in his neck and the other hand

ready to kill this guy with a fucking iron pole. So despite the hurt he had inflicted when he slashed the sharp end of a fractured glass bottle across McGee's throat, the attacker knew better than to continue the fight now that Aiman was armed. Yeah, this guy's tough. Yeah, he's not playing. If that made him not cower at all, this is a fucking tough man. You better watch out now that he's got the goddamn weapon. So yeah, he knew better than to fight. He immediately spun and fled into the night. Eamon dropped the bar and stumbled forward

into the Antrim Road. Somehow there was no pain, just an awful warm feeling all over his skin as the blood continued to pour freely from the three inch gash on the side of his neck. By some miracle, there was an ambulance waiting at a nearby traffic light and it sped to him, it sped him to the Mater Hospital and straight into the operating theater.

Dozens of stitches were required both inside and outside the wound but surgeons assured him he was a lucky man. They said a few millimeters to the side his jugular vein would have been severed and he'd be dead in the street. Yeah, no kidding. His mother wept openly when they saw the boy in the hospital bed. Isabel confesses that her overriding concern

was that Eamon would go looking for revenge as soon as he was discharged. Oh God, he's gonna kill this guy now, fuck. As it happened, it was taken care of within a week. It turned out that the attacker was from the new lodge, possibly one of the many who suffered that beating with the sticks outside the bar that night. He was soon tracked down and given a severe kicking that culminated in several layers

of skin from the man's face being left on the pebble-dashed wall. A few days later, police lifted one of Eamon's friends, brought him to the station and stood him in front of the victim. Is this the man who slashed Eamon's friends, brought him to the station and stood him in front of the victim. Is this the man who slashed Eamon McGee? No, that's not him was the reply. The officer then turned to the young man with the freshly scarred face. Is this the man who attacked you?

No, came the reply. No, they were both lying. They're just not telling the cops. They won't involve the cops in it. They said that was the end of the incident. Eamon still sees the man who did that to him all the time, he said, he sees him like every month when he's an adult, sees him all the time.

He said they may even not a silent greeting to one another as their paths cross, but they have never talked about the horrific violence that passed between them. No kidding. It was just the end of it. It was over and they just went about their business. They'd see each other again,

just act like they didn't know each other. Almost killed him. Almost killed him. Almost killed him, and then he was almost killed there too. Same shit. So, Eamon, within six weeks, he's back in the ring. Yeah? Holy shit, that's barely enough time

to get stitches out and healing, all that shit. Is that closed? It's wild. I don't even fucking know. He's just got an open wound he's fighting with. I don't even know if that's closed yet. Six weeks? We have McFadden, we have McFadden wearing the red trunks and we've got young Eamon with the massive bleeding wound in his neck.

Also red trunks, they used to be white. Holy shit. At the end of November he won four fights to become the Irish Intermediate Champion, which is the final stage before competing for a senior title. In December, he traveled to Rome to take part in a multi-nations event and returned three dominant victories later with another boxer of the tournament, Acolyde, and a papal blessing from the Pope when John Paul II spotted the Irish fighters

from his balcony during a mass in St. Peter's Square. Got a blessing from John Paul II. You got a poply blessing. Wow. The serrated scar on his neck was still in its raw, angry infancy, and Eamon took to wearing turtlenecks to cover it up when he left the house. Oh my.

It made for an interesting conversation starter with women in bars, but at that moment in time, he only had eyes for one. He found his lady, Mary Grogan. That's the lady. She grew up on Balholm Drive, a couple of streets away from Holmden Gardens, but she had never met Amon before. Her father was a big boxing fan, managed theumlin star social club where isabelle waitress

But while she had heard all about the McGee boys and what great fighters they were Mary had never actually seen amen More than boxing the grogans were a gaelic games family heavily involved with the local kick-hams Ga a club it was in the clubhouse bar one night, just before Christmas, that Eamon approached and introduced himself. Quote, I've been chasing you for months and you haven't even noticed me, he opened with a roguish smile. He called her Mary doll and they chatted all night. There was nine years between them but it didn't seem to matter. They talk in the book now in her 50s, Mary still a beautiful woman, but back then as the 80s drew to a close with her big shoulder pads and even bigger blonde hair, she turned heads

on the street. In January 1990, they got together and the following month, Eamonn helped her move furniture into a new house on Rosa Pena Street just outside the Ardoyne between Old Park and Cliftonville Roads. A mutual friend decorated the property to make it look like a home and Eamon liked it so much he decided to stay. Soon Mary was pregnant. They were in love. Yeah. There you go. So he's 18 years old at this point.

Unbelievable. Yup. He had his first full year as a senior boxer in 1990. He may and he's got knocked a woman up. It's a big year for him really. It's a big year, yeah. Almost died, he's got a lot going on for an 18 year old or 19 year old. He made the final of both the Ulster and Irish championships and each time dropped a decision

to fellow Belfast man Eddie Fisher. Indeed, Fisher got the better of McGee on the three occasions they met as seniors, although both Patsy and Amon are convinced that they deserve the nod in at least two of those contests. So he's winning a lot of fights, but he's also he's losing a lot of fights like the Fisher fights and he was losing one on a tour of the US and a lot of times by a he's losing by a point or two and his coach said this isn't like the better man won.

That's not what this is. He said the problem is, Aiman, because he lives like an asshole and doesn't train correctly, is fighting at a weight class above where he should be because he can't stay thinner because he's drinking constantly. So he's like, the problem is,

you're up too high of a weight class. You need to go down a weight class and you'll kick the shit out of everybody. That's why you're losing. So and that's your fault because you're not training. But because this Patsy guy, his coach has been with him since he was five fucking years old,

he knows how to talk to him and he knows telling him, hey, go down a weight class, he's not gonna do it. He'll say no, because he was told to do it. So he said he needed to basically put a seed in his head and let him think it was his own idea. Oh.

Is what he did. So at one point he told him, he said, you're the quickest welterweight I've seen, Eamon. And he said, as quick as any light welter in Ireland, that's for sure. Ah. Yeah, he said this planted in his head. About a couple weeks later, as they walked home, he poured some water over the little seed, he said.

He said, did you hear Billy Walsh is coming down from 71 kilograms? He's campaigning as a welter now. And Joe Lowe has just switched the opposite direction. Last year, Fisher moved from light welter to 67 kilogram Just shows you guys are moving up and down all the time. That's all he said Oh, yeah, yeah guys are moving around at one point while he was training He's whale in the bag and he said you're hitting it hard son Imagine if you could bring that power down to 63 and a half kilograms

Imagine that you'd kill guys. Yeah. A few weeks later he said that Eamon came to him and said, Patsy, I'm thinking of trying to get down to light welter, what do you think? Yeah. And he was like, yeah, no, that sounds like a good idea. Maybe we should do that. Yeah, maybe we should then. Yeah.

He was like, awesome. He said that the weight came off pretty easily. He said he always worked fiercely when he was training, but they said he was maybe lulled into a sense of invincibility by his natural gifts. That's the problem here, because he would go drink and all that kind of shit, so that never helped. He drank less beer now, though, ate less pizza

and bad food and ran more and all that kind of thing and got himself down and weight. So his first outing came at the 1992 Ulster senior finals in Belfast and this is kind of, they have an eye on people for a potential Olympic run the next year. The 92 Barcelona dream team Olympics. So he ends up basically kicking the shit out of people here. I mean, just fucking, absolutely knocking people out all over the place because he's now with lighter

people here, though. They said the change in division did nothing to ease the journey to a national title. In addition to the likes of Cowan and his nemesis Eddie Fisher, quality season campaigners such as Neil Gow and Billy Walsh were also fighting as light welterweights during this period. So McGee knew he'd have to face one or both every time he traveled to fight for a national title. So that's what's going on. Now, Sugar Shane here, Mosley as we know about,

he is just a couple months younger than Eamon. Really? They were born just about the same time. He's from California, not from Northern Ireland, little different, but he's doing all of this shit, and by the time this has happened, and Sugar Shane is rising to prominence as the next Sugar Ray Leonard, basically, they're calling him.

Yeah. So, yeah, now Eddie Fisher was scheduled to share the ring with Mosley in the Irish capital But Mickey Hawkins withdrew his charge as he feared a bad beating would hurt Fisher's chances in the upcoming national finals They asked a man. What do you want to do? He said I'll fucking get in there. I don't give a shit Yeah, I'll fucking do it. Yeah Eamon said quote he was good very good fast hands strong Just a very good fighter, but I still reckon I beat him that day

But the judges didn't think so judges Awarded Mosley a 25 to 17 victory in a bout that remained highly competitive until the final bell so Eamon took positives from the defeat though, because everyone on earth in the boxing industry knew Shane Mosley was gonna be a major, an Olympic, he was gonna be an Olympian, he was gonna be a champion, and he just held his own with him,

and he thought he was fine. So, the way he saw it, he goes, well, that's the best in the world, and he didn't scare me, then fuck, I guess I'm good here. So, yeah, that's what it is So that's that's very interesting. So his daughter is born. Okay, that's nice coming up here So to be the best to be crowned the best amateur light welterweight in Ireland

He'd have to beat three other contenders to the throne inside of a week at the National Stadium in Ireland Yeah, so he's's gotta do that here. In the amateur game with the protective head guards and oversized 10 ounce gloves, elite level boxers rarely blast one another out of the ring as it can happen in the professional ranks. You don't see a lot of knockouts in the amateur ranks. You just don't.

They have head gear on. So I mean, Jesus. If you get knocked out with head gear on, stop boxing. Why are you here stop fucking boxing so they said it proved during the 1992 national finals as Eamon put on a display of counter punching distance control and ring management that defied his tender years and earned three deserved points victories over vastly more experienced opponents yeah Good for him. So he's kicking some ass. He ends up, he said that as he's doing this,

they had his girlfriend and her soon to be wife here, Mary Dahl, hanging out, super pregnant, watching all these fights. Their daughter, wow, I guess it's A-I-N-E, but the A has an accent of some kind on it. M-A-I-N-E, but the A has an accent of some kind on it. M-A-I-R-E. So Marie, is it Anne Marie?

Is it just Anne Marie? Is it that easy? I don't know. So Eamon is feeling good. He's feeling real good. He thinks he's gonna go to the Olympics and he's doing terrific. He would, you know he was thought he was

really gonna be like a millionaire and you know he was really something he was described in the newspaper locally as the most professional looking amateur of the championships after he knocked somebody out to win a final yeah so but people keep asking him to turn pro to turn pro and he's like I don't know the Olympics are pro or whatever the fuck you do So because of his Irish title win McGee could have should have automatically been nominated as the Irish entrant for the qualification tournament for the boxing event at the 92 Olympics Yeah, however a number of the members from the Ulster boxing council abstained from voting for his nomination and this led to the selection team

Requesting that McGee fight a preliminary fight against Billy Walsh A boxer who he already beat to win the Irish title So he turned down the chance for a box-off as he felt it was bullshit He said I know that when it came down to the vote that there were men in Ulster who didn't vote for me and I know who they are. I refused to box on principle because the place in Barcelona was rightfully mine. All right. So yeah, but now you're not going to the fucking Olympics. What good is that going to do you? So, um, he watched the Olympics instead. He watched one of the guys he knew win a welterweight gold medal and and Wayne McCullough win silver as a bantamweight,

and said, huh, maybe I shoulda went. That wasn't too smart of me, now was it, here? So, I guess he ends up, he ends up with this, there's a guy named Nicolas Hernandez Cruz, who's a Cuban coach, and they said he was instrumental in revolutionizing this training regimes within Irish amateur boxing,

and he convinced Eamon and Wayne McCullough that, he convinced them that they were the two best hopes they had for medals. So you should do this. The team for the 1989 World Junior Championships was gathering for a training camp in Kerry, but Eamon stood removed from the other boys. They said he seemed older now, not in physique, but he had a silent confidence and he that he was clever and hard. So that's when the guy first saw him. So he saw him and was like, okay,

all right. He said he got a mutual respect for him and just thought he was a great boxer now They were very upset about the Olympic game thing apparently that was a big fucking deal and I Don't understand it. So I don't know why they wouldn't give it to him. I don't know if it's a local if it's just like a you know like a Fighting among you know, these local municipalities. I don't know one boxing club thinks This guy is who the fuck knows seems like a lot of politics though, right? Yeah really does March 15th 1992

There's an article from the newspaper in Dublin boxing squad to meet Spain and they say that in Dublin boxing squad to meet Spain. And they say that champions, Eamonn McGee and Tony Curry refused to box the trials. So they don't, that's this. That's talking about it. Well, if the cards are stacked against me, or some bullshit's gonna happen,

just bring it down to whether or not I'm good at boxing and judge it on that. If other shit comes into play, I don't wanna box. I don't wanna do it. Well, the head of the council or whatever the fuck that decided this said that he's adamant that the demand for a box-off between the two was the only sensible call to make

and denies that there was anything about personalities or anything about we don't like this guy or any of that bullshit here. Sure. To this day though, Patsy, the trainer, says bullshit. He's convinced that Dublin had been out to get Eamonn for years and points to a series of incidents that when taken together could suggest something of a campaign against him. They blamed him for a hundred pound phone bill that another fighter had run up in a

Canadian hotel. There was an Irish referee using a previously unknown European rule to deduct a point without warning from Eamonn when the gum shield slipped out of his mouth mid-round. There was also accusations of stealing beer at a tournament in East Kilbride when the beverages in question disappeared while McGee was boxing. That's that one. So he said there was the tip-off Patsy received upon registering

at the national finals one year that the referees had discussed and agreed to disqualify Amon the first moment he spat in the ring. An admittedly unfortunate habit he had acquired since he had upped his daily nicotine intake. What is he chewing? He's got fucking Redman in the ring. He's got a snoo He got fucking red man in the snus in there. Got a fucking get some snuff in there. You never heard of that before.

Pinch of Copenhagen and now punch me in the face. That's the weirdest shit I've ever heard. You're about to be bleeding man. Oh my God. There was the four thousand pound grant from National Lottery funding that Amen was awarded to help cover his training expenses, but he never received it Jesus that's interesting. So yeah, they think that basically They thought that eventually he would just do it and fucking box the guy or whatever, but he wouldn't know

No, he said he wouldn't box him or anybody else in that. This is fuck that no So that's very interesting. Now, here we go. Here's something they're talking about the night the A.I. ABA expected him in Dublin for the for the the box off. Yeah, McGree just went drinking with his friends at the Shamrock and the bar he likes to hang out at.

So they announced the other guy is the Irish Olympic squad, 63 and a half kilogram representative, and Eamon was instead included in a second team scheduled to fly out to Tenerife for an international meet with Spain. Such was his sense of anger and disillusionment. Few thought McGee would turn up at the airport for his flight to the Canary Islands, but he was there, surprisingly chipper given the circumstances.

His relative joviality masked the bitterness burning within him, but no sooner had the flight taken off that the explanation for McGee's appearance became clear. He was drunk by the time the four-hour flight touched down in Santa Cruz and had barely sobered up for the duration of the tournament. Each morning when Nicholas Cruz gathered the men together to begin training and counted the bodies in front of him, there was always one missing. It's McGee, one of the other boxers would say. Shall I go up and get him?

Forget it, Cruz would reply before beginning the early morning run without the team's star man. Cruz had a lot of sympathy for Eamon after the Olympics snub and also knew there'd be no reasoning with him in this mood. Yeah, if he's hungover he's not going to listen to you. McGee was not on this island to box. He was here on an IABA funded holiday. As long as Eamon kept his eyes open that week, he was drinking.

He actually turned up for one of his designated bouts and was foolishly allowed in the ring in the opening seconds McGee sank his teeth into an unsuspecting Spaniards neck and was disqualified as the poor man squealed in terror He just bit him. He fucking vampire him. I Will Dracula your ass? Tyson 91 fuck yeah, it is. Yeah, you bet him in the neck for Christ's sake. That's pretty Tyson. Fuckin' 90s? 91? Fuck yeah it is. Yeah you bit him in the neck for Christ's sake. That's even worse. Yeah.

Holy shit. Eamon headed straight back to the bar without even showering. Oh god gross. He was in full free fall mode. Boxing, the only thing that had kept him vaguely near the rails over the past decade, had now conspired to send him careening off the track and into the dark unknown. The following night he was propping up the bar in a club in the early morning hours when a fellow fighter started fidgeting with the draw string of his shorts. Eamon looked with interest as he finally coaxed a small

white tablet from the elastic around his waist. What's that McGee said? He was handed the pill. Just take it the other boxer advised you won't be disappointed You don't feel a thing This ecstasy tablet was the first drug he ever took So good You're right, I don't know I'm not disappointed at all he punched me in the eye and I came it's wonderful I said do that again, man do that again punched me in the eye and I came. It's wonderful.

I said, do that again, man, do that again. That's the button. As a kid in the Bone Hills that rise up along Ardoin, he tried a joint but quickly decided he preferred the buzz that alcohol gave him. Later, sitting in the abandoned Flax Street mill listening to rebel music under the British snipers in their watchtower, he learned to love the relaxing effect of marijuana.

But witnessing friends hallucinating on glue, rolling about in garbage, believing it to be gold coins, or hurling imaginary fireballs at one another had been enough to put him off any further experimentation with narcotics. The risk of being tested and found with something in his system at a major boxing championship had been another deterrent But the point at this point he didn't care

The fighter was right. Aiman was not disappointed the ecstasy removed him from life Just like the booze did but the tablet placed him in an altogether different reality Whereas alcohol exacerbated the darker thoughts that swirled around his head and rendered him heavy and sluggish as the night wore on, MDMA lifted his spirits and propelled him forward at breakneck speed into the small hours where mayhem resided. As soon as he returned home to Belfast, he threw himself into his new habit with the same single mindedness which he attacked everything in his life. He's like, I'm gonna get really into ecstasy. And some people are like, I'm gonna get really into like home bread baking or beer making or some shit. He's like, I'm gonna get really into doing ecstasy.

I'm gonna micro brew in my kitchen. Yeah, holy shit. The early 1990s rave culture was in full effect in North Belfast and illegal pills to keep the party going were easy to find, particularly as Eamon was now working the door of a city center bar frequented by the likes of Mickey Moneybags Mooney and Paul Devine, Brendan Speedy Fegan and Brendan Bap Campbell, some of the most prominent drug dealers in Belfast.

McGee's naturally sharp business mind immediately noted the ample supply available and limitless demand that Existed on the street and in the clubs within weeks. He was tapping into the market They figured out how to make a business out of this Very fucking interesting when the Olympics were going on he pretended he didn't give a fuck and said he wasn't paying attention to the games That's what he told everybody But he did. Yeah. He watched all of it.

He watched it intently, of course. He sat at home with his fuckin', he's got two kids now. Two year old Francis, that's not his though. I think that's Mary's other kid. And six month old Ayn, Ayn, Ayn. And. It's Anne Marie.

Yeah, he watched his friends compete and all that kind of thing and I'm sure fuckin' ate up some more ecstasy. Yeah, he watched his friends compete and all that kind of thing and I'm sure fucking Ate up some more ecstasy So he got real mad through the whole thing. He said he was thinking fuck the IABA Fuck the Ulster County or council fuck Patsy even fuck them all I'm through with boxing I'm a drug taker and a drug dealer now So

That's my game now. Oh my God. Halloween 1992 is known as the Night of the Long Knives. I'm sure you've heard of this. It's IRA British Army fighting here, which is interesting. They said the IRA didn't like drug dealers operating in their districts. For most of the year They'd been monitoring the influx of ecstasy into the working-class

Nationalist neighborhoods and gathering intelligence on those responsible. Yeah, the IRA didn't like the Irish people's liberation organization either Despite the grand title this small Republican paramilitary group was more involved in drugs prostitution rackete, and internal feuds than in any campaign to free the Irish from 800 years of British oppression. They sprang forth from a split in the Irish National Liberation Army in the mid-1980s, and by the early 90s the IRA had decided that their propensity for inter-Republican violence and the fact that they operated outside the control of their police force meant it would be better overall for the Republican movement if the IPLO ceased to exist.

It became known as the Night of the IRA's version of the Nazi's Night of the Long Knives. A few days before, they publicly warned locals in the area concerned that a purge would be taking place. Isabel was sitting in the shamrock with a couple of friends when a pair of balaclava clad IRA volunteers entered the bar and read a statement to that effect. She had no idea that her youngest son was on their list. The operation was planned for Halloween night so that the sounds of firecrackers exploding would obscure the hollower crack of gunshots.

100 IRA members were involved across the city and it began when Gerard Jock Davison walked into the St. Matthew's Social Club in the short strand area of central Belfast and assassinated the IPLO's second in command Sammy Ward. Throughout the night over a dozen other men were taken out of pubs, clubs and houses across Belfast and received a bullet behind each kneecap. How many of these other victims were actually members of the IPLO is still debated to this day. Authorities declared the shootings the result of an IRA-IPLO feud and it is true that the provost, the police force there, soon ordered remaining members of the IPLO

to hand over their weapons and leave the country. But the facts suggest it was really a primarily a Republican drive to eliminate local drug dealing. The IRA also managed to forcibly disband the already weakened IPLO in one bloody night of violence was, as it appears, more of an unexpected bonus than the ultimate goal of the attacks. Certainly Eamon never had any involvement with the IPLO. He was also not in any of the usual drinking dens or houses that the IRA called upon that

night as they sought to admonish him for his recent dalliance in the drug trade. When he swoked to the bloody carnage around him, he went straight to his father. Doc attempted to reason with the top rank of the Ardoyne IRA, but his son was guilty as charged and there was nothing he could do to change that. With a heavy heart, he told his youngest child that he would have to take a bullet. They're gonna have to get shot. Or you could move. That's another option at this point. You're an adult with a baby and a boxing career. Get the fuck out of there and go start fighting for money.

The fuck are you doing? Eamonn accepted his fate and that decision saved his boxing career. The local OC offered a degree of leniency if Eamon was willing to knock on the door of the following the following evening and promised the bullet would rip through the flesh rather than shatter the bone of his leg. You open the door and we'll just give you a flesh wound. Unbelievable. Eamon was, sitting in the silence of his mother's kitchen in the Holmden Gardens, drinking a beer alongside Isabelle, his dad, Noel, and Patrick.

Mary stayed at home with the two babies. When the rap was heard on the back door at 6pm, Amen rose on his own and left the house as his mother tried to hide her tears. Solemnly he walked a pace ahead of his foreboding companion along the alleyway that lies parallel to Holmden Gardens, took a left onto Berwick Road, crossed over into the park, and stopped a few paces into a narrow entry that runs alongside his old primary school. A second man, this one masked, appeared and quietly instructed Aiman to place his hands on the wall and spread his legs. With no warning, the shooter bent down so

the muzzle of the gun was practically touching his quarry's trouser leg and fired a bullet through the left calf. The two provosts then walked away without another word spoken. Noel and Terrence heard the shot as they sat in Noel's car on Holmdon. That was their clue, or that was their cue when they immediately took off to the designated meeting point. It was a new Ford Escort.

Noel's pride and joy. That's hilarious. That's hilarious. So he had meticulously lined the rear seats and floor with plastic bin liners. That is just so funny. That's someone's, he had meticulously lined the rear seats and floor with plastic bin liners. That is just so funny that that's someone's, over here in 1992, a Ford Escort was no one's prized possession.

No one. Nobody was, no. Nobody was proud of it. You could get in it pouring blood from every fucking orifice and nobody would care. It's fine, who gives a shit. It may have been a 16 year old's pride and joy because it's the only car they bought.

Yeah, I do. They's such a bad car. One friend I knew who had one of those. It was so bad. When you turn the radio on, the headlights would dim. It was that shitty of a car. Literally the headlights would go to like a quarter fucking The motor couldn't charge. Brightness.

The alternator to turn. No, it was so bad. Huge piece of shit. So, so yeah, this guy had put plastic all over, so none of his brother's blood would stain. Eamon had worn a pair of old trousers that he didn't care that would now have a bullet-shaped hole in them.

It all added to the macabre sense of surrealism that this prearranged and carefully managed maiming of the youngest member of their family. Yeah, this was all like, oh, you're gonna be knocking on the door, then they're gonna shoot you. Blood flowed freely from the gunshot wound,

but he was remarkably calm as his father applied pressure with flannels and his brother drove to the hospital. Not bad. The incident had a profound effect on the entire family. As a child. Yeah, that would say. The dad who had effectively negotiated the shooting of his own son slipped further into the himself and the bottle. Yeah, he's got to feel bad.

Nolan Patrick went back to their families outside the area but were tormented by the memories of having to sit idly by when a man came to their family home and took their baby brother away to be shot. Isabel's heart was broken. She has since forgiven every bad deed Aiman has ever committed, but his involvement in drugs was the toughest for her to get over. She was also the most conscious of the stigma attached to dealing and how attitudes toward a family

in the district could be forever altered by one member's involvement in the life-wrecking trait. She's embarrassed more than anything. Yeah. Yeah. Sitting in the backs of a black taxi on the way to visit her son the next morning,

she listened to the silence while the driver, unaware of who his fare was, chatted freely about no cab being willing to pick up drug-dealing scumbags from the hospitals when they shuffled out on crutches and knee braces. Eamon's mother was too hurt to speak up on behalf of her boy. Eamon, for himself, positives could be taken out of the harrowing incident. He didn't stop using, but he ended his dealing days at the cost of a flesh wound. He looks back now and realizes it was

a small price to pay to keep breathing. But before the newium Dawn Mooney who let amen off a thousand pound debt after his shooting Divine Fagan and Campbell all received bullets from which they never walked away It's all the guys all those other drug dealers have been murdered so Amen also reconsidered his decision not to fight anymore You know he said that dozens of limbs have been amputated in Belfast after punishment shootings, and doctors estimate that one in five suffer permanent debilitating injury.

And Dad had argued that Eamon was one of the best amateur boxers in the country, the pride of the district, and he'd one day be a great professional champion and owed it to his father to keep going. So, yeah. It's fucking interesting here. So he ends up receiving a flesh wound to the calf and there he goes, he's gonna move on.

So they said the reasons from a later article, the reasons for punishment attacks, as they were well known, repeated burglary, joy riding, joy riding. Joy riding will get you winged. Shot in the leg, kneecapped. Drug dealing and stealing cars were all high in the list of punishable misdemeanors, but when I ask him about the IRA attack,

McGee will only say that he was up to no good, as if he felt he deserved such an attack. That's fucking interesting. So he continues, he goes back to boxing. Yeah. Patsy's working with him and McGee hadn't boxed for over a year and a half, but they said that you wouldn't even know it when he got back in the ring. He steps in and just immediately starts getting victories and kicking the shit out of people. So that's pretty nice.

He's doing very well. In 1993, he again won the Irish national senior light welterweight title. So he didn't box for a year and a half, came back, he's still the best. Champion. Still the champion. So this is the beginning of now something big for him.

He's gonna really try to make a career of this in February 1993 He knocked out Jamie Scanlon inside 45 seconds as team Ireland claimed a victory over Great Britain in Dublin In March he was part of a three-week eight-state boxing odyssey around the US in which he was once again voted fighter of the tour But here's the problem. Every time he does something good, does something dumb too. What'd he do? That's Eamonn. They said the Irish team were treated like kings in New York,

either given their own float to take part in the famous St. Patrick's Day Parade. Yeah, they love that shit, I'm sure. Eamonn found himself caught short and was forced to urinate off the back as it cruised through the Big Apple. The sheer quantity of beer he had had necked the prolonging ordeal for what seemed like three or four blocks. The mayor's office also provided a high spec RV usually reserved for the families of visiting

dignitaries for the boxers to use. This time the whole team were guilty of excess and Famous Photo depicts a line of Irish boxings, bright young hopes pissing up against the Mayor's prized vehicle. Jeez. The most Irish photo in the history of Irish boxing. That's it, there it is.

They're drunk and pissing. One day, McGee Griffin and John Irk sign Earth's kind Decided to jump in a yellow cab and instructed the driver to take them to a McDonald's drive-thru at the time still a novelty for anyone From Northern Ireland. They're like we heard there's a great Irish restaurant here. It's called McDonald's. Do you know of it? It's really Yeah, everything is named after us. It's Mickey everything. How's their Shepherd's pie good. It's really authentic. Everything is named after us. It's Mickey everything. How's their shepherd's pie?

Good? It's a good one over there? No? OK. Not being used to. Tell you about the corn, beef, and cabbage. Let me tell you all about it. Not being used to the menu or system,

they didn't know what they even had there. What is this? They just heard of McDonald's. They were taking a little longer than expected to make their order when the car behind them Decided to hurry them along by beeping Because it's New York City and people beep Then as the boys sat eating in the cab in an empty car park the same car

Provocatively parked right beside them layered in there we go The taxi driver hurled verbal abuse out of his window. But the bark was clearly worse than his bite so Eamon decided it was up to him to teach today's amazing. But the bark was clearly worse than his bite, so Eamon decided it was up to him to teach today's lesson. After McGee gave Eamon and Irk signed their instructions, the trio bounded out of the cab, pulled open the doors of the neighboring vehicle, and proceeded to give the occupants a kicking, severe enough to ensure they'd have more patience next time they were in line behind any Irish tourist at a fast food joint. Yeah, you fucked with half of a country's national boxing team.

That's not smart. You beeped at them. At the airport at the end of the tour, the team were told that Muhammad Ali was sitting around the corner in the terminal and Eamon shadow boxed with the greatest while they waited for their delayed flight. Amazing. And then received a signed prayer card that he still treasures to this day. Wow.

Ali is famously friendly, that's one thing. And famously will shadow box with anybody. Shadow box, he'll talk to anybody, he'll sign anything, like he's apparently a really happy guy. The greatest guy ever. You gotta have some patience if you're gonna talk to him. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. You gotta have some patience if you're gonna talk to him. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.

You gotta have some patience. In the end there, you needed to sit around for a minute. You need to hang on to him for a second there. So yeah, he's doing well there. He went to Denmark the next month and kicked the shit out of somebody. They called it as one-sided a contest, as you'll ever see in the boxing ring.

Yeah. But he's also a mess too. They called it as one-sided a contest as you'll ever see in the boxing ring. But he's also a mess too. In the 1993 World Amateur Championships in Tampere, Finland, a fellow boxer was on the other end of McGee's bare, wrathful fists. Eamon was hosting a drunken hotel room party when an inebriated Russian heavyweight thumped on the bedroom door and demanded entry. Once inside, the 200-pounder began throwing his vodka-soaked weight around and putting others on edge.

A few tried to ease the non-English speaking big man out the door, but Eamon did not have the patience and the Russian was soon knocked unconscious then dragged out onto the carpeted hallway. The next morning when the lift doors opened as McGee waited to descend to the breakfast room, his heart skipped a beat when his victim gingerly stepped out accompanied by two Finnish policemen. Thankfully, the Russian was either too hungover or concussed to recognize his attacker or perhaps just too embarrassed to admit that holy shit this guy's small and he knocked

me out. Through it all, the lure of these alcohol and drug binges was pulling him back into the life he could not afford to be living. Even away at boxing tournaments, he was soon out in search of dope to smoke and to take the edge off the day when the sun went down. On that US trip, for example, he found himself lost in Hell's Kitchen after taking advice from some less than savory street characters. He approached for directions.

Yeah they gave him shit directions. On European ventures he had more success after striking up a friendly friendship with a like minded fighter who tended to arrive with his own supply. Eamon was only too happy to be his most loyal customer. So there you go let's leave it off on that. Wow. Eamon is on the cusp, the precipice of his career. He's so fun, yeah.

He's a lot of fun and now he's really gonna get wild because now it's gonna be not just in Ireland and not just in his neighborhood, he's gonna be all over the world beating people up at McDonald's. So it's a lot of fun, he's about to have Eamon, Eamon Jr. as well, which is awesome. So here we go. We'll talk about all that when we come back next week with more of Eamon McGee here. Fun shit here. So if you enjoy these shows, please, please tell everyone about it. Get on whatever app you are on and

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