Gerry Adams was about 30 minutes into the story of his life and still focused on events more than 60 years ago when his lawyer suggested they might fast forward a little bit.
“Just to move things on,” Declan Doyle said. Although the senior counsel, with an eye to the legal niceties, deferred to the judge first. Perish the thought he might be leading the witness.
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Mr Justice Alexander Owens, quick to respond, saw no issue here.
“Oh, you can lead a little bit,” the judge smiled. Bless his horsehair wig.
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It was an interesting start to the former Sinn Féin president’s defamation proceedings against the BBC – a very lengthy dander down memory lane to set the context for his court action and testimony to come.
It’s a long story, even without the detail of his formative years in west Belfast, from the influence of his Granny Adams to passing his primary school 11+ exam at the second time of asking. He is suing the BBC over a Spotlight current affairs programme broadcast nine years ago.
The programme and a subsequent online article claimed that, as leader of Sinn Féin, he was consulted by the IRA and ultimately sanctioned the 2006 murder of IRA informer Denis Donaldson. He says this is not true.
The big guns are out for this case.
Both sides are represented by a brace of senior counsel: Tom Hogan and the aforementioned Mr Doyle for the 76-year-old former MP and TD, with former attorney general Paul Gallagher and Eoin McCullough for the Beeb.
The former Sinn Féin leader also has high-profile international media lawyer Paul Tweed in his corner.
“Which one is he?” a photographer asked outside the Four Courts as the parade of gowns and pinstripes and one Lawyer to the Stars passed through the gates to Court 24.
“The one with the hair,” his colleague replied, which was all he had to say. Mr Tweed’s swept back, silver locks set him apart from the conventional rest.
A large media contingent from Northern Ireland added to the overflowing press benches. The last time there was such demand for seats in the old courtroom off Chancery Place was when Conor McGregor occupied the witness box late last year.
Opening the plaintiff’s case, Tom Hogan began by stating the obvious about his client: “He needs no introduction ... he is well known to all.”
A fact underlined by the arrival of a court sketch artist. They don’t turn up for any old proceedings.
The softly spoken lawyer said it had taken Adams “a lifetime” to earn his reputation as a peacemaker. And while “many people say many things” about him, he has chosen on most occasions to let matters go.
“But he wasn’t willing to let this matter pass.”
Before handing over to his colleague, Tom Hogan said Gerry Adams “is going to tell you about himself”.
It’s not the first time that Gerry has told his life story and it won’t be the last either.
He walked to the stand, limping slightly. When he spoke to give his date of birth, his voice didn’t sound as strong as it used to. At one point he was asked to speak up so the jury could hear.
Where was he born, Declan Doyle asked.
“I was born in the Royal Victoria Hospital,” the witness said, with an ironic smile.
Then he sat back, arms folded, in his shirtsleeves, and told the jury about himself.
His grannies, his parents, his early education, his first job.
“My biggest ambition was to win an All-Ireland with the Antrim hurling team.”
How he became aware of Ian Paisley, the Special Powers Act and discrimination against his community.
The civil rights movement. John Hume got a couple of mentions. The Divis Flats. Brendan Behan figured tangentially. The B-Specials.
Declan Doyle tried to push on.
“What caused the ultimate descent into the violence and mayhem that we now call the Troubles?”
“Well, if we go back to 1964… ”
Thing is, Gerry said, it was no one thing. At no point was there a “pheeuwww!” he said, throwing up his arms and making a noise like a sudden explosion. It wasn’t like that.
Which brought him on to the Vietnam War and his involvement in the anti-war movement and the whole “Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie” vibe and the sense of the times a-changing.
Then it was four o’clock and time to knock off for the day and leave the 1960s behind.
Gerry is back on Wednesday morning.
There’s a way to go yet.
