‘The tentacles of abuse are far-reaching’

Survivors reveal backlash after jailing of brothers for 1990s abuse

Tom Tuite

Three survivors sexually abused by two Westmeath businessmen as teenage babysitters in the 1990s have revealed the “horrendous” backlash after they reported the crimes.

In 2023, Deirdre Boyhan decided to break her silence and make a formal complaint against John (Johnny) Owens (72) and his brother Martin Owens (66).

For three decades, she believed she was the only victim, until she discovered her sister, Lorraine Kieran, and two old friends, Sinéad Nally, also from Multyfarnham, and Aoife O’Dwyer, had also been targeted while working as babysitters.

So began a gruelling process and an ugly backlash, but ultimately, it led to the two brothers being jailed.

The victims, aged 14 to just shy of 17, were all local teenagers trusted to care for the brothers’ children.

Johnny Owens, of Cois Abhainn, Multyfarnham, ran a successful quarry and concrete business in Knockdrin, with Martin’s help.

Johnny Owens was sentenced in February to eight years after pleading guilty to multiple counts of sexual assault against Sinéad Nally, Deirdre Boyhan and Aoife O’Dwyer, who had then lived in Parsonstown, between July 1992 and November 1996.

He repeatedly molested the girls, aged 14 to 17, whenever he got them alone. He invited one girl to take alcohol. In court, his acts were described as gross violations.

Martin, who later moved to Castlepollard, subsequently pleaded guilty to sexually assaulting Deirdre and her younger sister, Lorraine, now a mother of four.

The Director of Public Prosecutions accepted a plea of sexual assault based on the full facts being presented in evidence.

More sexual assaults happened in Trabolgan, County Cork, when Deirdre accompanied Martin Owens and his family on a holiday.

During sentencing at the Central Criminal Court on July 27, Mr Justice Tony Hunt highlighted how Martin Owens groomed his victim and plied her with drink. He imposed a sentence of five years and six months, with the final six months suspended.

Following their 30-year wait for justice, the women have spoken out to urge other abuse survivors suffering in silence to come forward or seek help from the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre.

Since the case was highlighted, hundreds have taken to social media to express admiration for these survivors.

For the investigation, the women had to go out with gardaí to retrace the crime scene locations and find their Eircodes. Some are not featured on modern maps but remain “etched” into their memories, and were on roundabout routes on dark, quiet roads used to drop the girls home.

Deirdre says it was a “masterclass in grooming”.

Rumours circulated that the women were doing it for money, or people asked why they could not just stay quiet and let it go. The men were regarded as pillars of the community, admired and respected for the employment they provided.

“This happened 30 years ago, so what?” was a common reaction, says Sinéad, “so what, just because you employed a few people and gave a few pound to the GAA.”

Deirdre detected that some felt a terrible injustice was being done against Johnny Owens. “We were told that we would split the village and the community or we would be crushed.”

“The backlash was horrendous. One woman actually said to me, ‘Oh, did he just drop his hand on your leg while driving you home?’. I got so sick of the remarks,” Aoife says.

She learned that a woman openly gossiped that they made the whole thing up.

An unnamed party shocked Deirdre by saying: “‘This happened a long time ago. He’s going to wipe the floor with you. God help you.’ I was taken aback – I was really taken aback. It hurt. It really hurt,” she says.

“It’s a small area; we’re all interconnected,” Sinéad interjects.

In the years leading up to her disclosing the abuse to gardaí, Deirdre was “living mentally on a shoestring” trying to convince herself there was nothing wrong. “I was mentally gone, desperately sad – I was just broken.” A doctor warned that her stress level would kill her, and she began counselling.

Deirdre first went to Mullingar Garda Station to make a formal complaint. She was referred to the Divisional Protective Service Unit in Athlone, a specialised team dedicated to the investigation of sex crimes.

The victims had to cope with having counselling notes being handed over to the defence and what seemed like endless adjournments before the case was finalised. None of the women saw each other’s statements until the sentence hearings.

After the men were charged in 2024, “I noticed Johnny outside my florist shop in Mullingar. He spent two solid weeks walking up and down outside my shop every day – like a yo-yo.”

He brought €20,000 to each of the three victims as a token of his remorse. But Deirdre says there was no apology.

In his case, Martin had once maintained he was her “boyfriend” when he was 20 years older than her and giving her alcohol. She was 15 or 16, she stresses.

“That was not a relationship – he was under no illusion as to what age I was. That is why it is so important for us to stand together and to speak for other abuse victims.

“These men pleaded guilty to what they did,” Aoife says. “They’re wrong, they’re paedophiles, they’re sex offenders. And people need to know what they did to us.”

“It’s always there,” Aoife says.

They all admit they built a wall around themselves or were wearing a mask as they carried this secret. “We were vindicated,” they assert.

“We have been through the wringer when all this came out, but now everyone, even older people – particularly older men – have come up to us and praised us,” Sinéad says.

Aoife adds: “You have to tell people. You have to tell your family, you have to tell your friends. It affects everyone around you, and you’re worried for them.”

“The tentacles of abuse are far-reaching,” Deirdre reflects, “it took a long time to find our voice.”