His Death
Fateful Night
In the very early morning of May 15th, 1921, the four people staying at 2 Upper Janemount were suddenly woken by shouting and banging on the door. A group of drunk, masked Black and Tans dressed in civilian clothes had come armed looking for the T.D. Fr. James, Norah de Róiste, her mother Bridget O’Brien, and Kate Kearney the housekeeper (originally from Inchigeela) scrambled out of their beds to see what was happening.
Fr. James leaned out the upstairs window and told the men “I am only a priest and a guest in this house.” However the angry mob continued pounding on the door. When the housekeeper explained that Liam de Róiste was not home, and there were only three women and a priest present, the men outside demanded that they open the door anyway. They then smashed the glass with the butt of a rifle, blew the lock off the door and rushed upstairs, where Fr. James had come out onto the landing.
The housekeeper reported that he shouted “I am a priest, for God’s sake don’t shoot me!” while grappling with the intruder.
De Róiste’s mother-in-law Mrs. O’Brien informed the Irish Independent that “the man threw his left arm around Fr. O’Callaghan’s neck, pulled him towards himself, and hooking his right hand to the back, discharged a shot which entered Fr. O’Callaghan’s body above the shoulder blade.” Years later, the housekeeper (Mrs. Kate McSweeney of Carriganine, Macroom) described how she managed to grasp the revolver by the muzzle and direct a second shot away, but the Black and Tan quickly regained control of the gun. One of the bullets hit her on the finger, a mark she took with her to the grave.
Having already fatally shot the priest through the spine, the assassin fired again at Fr. James’ body on the ground before turning and running away. An ambulance was summoned but owing to the very steep, hilly terrain, the attendants had to wrap him in a blanket, put him on a stretcher and carry him some distance down the hill until they reached their vehicle. The mortally wounded priest was removed to the North Infirmary where it was discovered he had extensive internal and spinal injuries. There was no hope for his recovery.
Final Hours
Prayers were requested at all Masses in the diocese. Fr. James was visited in the hospital during the day by Bishop Coholan as well as many priests and members of his family. Fr. O’Flynn recalled afterwards that Fr. James was quite conscious and conversed in Irish with them until the Lord called him at 6 pm that evening. Before he passed away, he identified his assassin to his PP Canon O’Sullivan, who later swore an affidavit that when asked if he knew who shot him, Fr. O’ Callaghan answered, “I do, he is a tall lanky fellow with a clean shaven face, a Black and Tan I’ve often seen at the North Gate Bridge‟.
Inquiry Abandoned
Despite this and other eyewitness statements, no-one was ever charged with his murder. All present in the house that night refused to attend a Military Inquiry held at Victoria Barracks, and the RIC head constable dropped proceedings as a result. When this lack of investigation was raised in the Westminster House of Commons, Sir Hamar Greenwood (Secretary of State for Ireland) denied allegations that “these courts were a farce”, and disparaged Fr. James’ account. Given that the standard findings in comparable cases were that “the deceased was murdered by some person or persons unknown”, it is hardly likely justice would have been served had the inquiry gone ahead.
Elegies and Obsequies
Local and national newspapers widely covered this despicable killing. Both the Cork Constitution and Cork Examiner chronicled the events extensively (extracts are published on the Cork and Ross diocesan website). The Irish Independent printed eyewitness testimony while the Anglo-Celt, Freeman’s Journal and Belfast Newsletter also carried the tragic news. It was widely reported that “His death under such shocking circumstances ... evoke[d] the most profound feelings of horror and regret.”
His obituary in the Cork Examiner declared Fr. O’Callaghan had traits that “endeared him to all who knew him, gentle in manner, kindly in disposition, and amiable.” Associations as disparate as the Cork Harbour Board and the Irish Teaching Colleges passed resolutions of deep regret and paid tribute to his work for the Irish language. The North Cathedral was at capacity for his funeral, filled with numerous members of the clergy including Bishop Coholan, public representatives from the Corporation, Harbour Board & County Council, and members of the general public. A large crowd unable to gain admission joined reverently in prayer outside, and up to 1,000 schoolchildren outfitted in black armbands lined the route.
UCC site TheIrishRevolution.ie claimed that the procession afterwards was “one of the largest funerals ever witnessed in Cork city or county during the entire War of Independence. Besides throngs of the laity, practically all the priests of the diocese turned out, to judge by the extremely lengthy list of their names appearing in the Cork Examiner the next day.” As the cortege passed the Good Shepherd Convent, the Sisters and pupils could be heard reciting the Rosary in Irish. The huge numbers paying their respects were described as “an impressive demonstration of grief” attesting to a “general feeling of revulsion and horror at the tragic circumstances of his death.” While the interment was originally fixed for St. Joseph’s Cemetery, at the request of his parishioners, Fr. O’Callaghan was laid to rest in the grounds of Clogheen Church where a celtic cross stands in his memory.