Muiris Ó Súilleabháin ✍ responds to Robin Livingstone's open letter to Gavin Robinson.

Dear Robin,

On 10 February 2026 you issued a public statement, via your solicitor, addressed to Gavin Robinson MP, leader of the Democratic Unionist Party.

I too have lost someone close to me in violent and unexpected circumstances. I too have lived with the hurt and heartbreak you describe. It is beyond crass for any politician, from any party, to tell bereaved families to “move on”.

Like you, I do not wish to know who killed my family member. I do not want them imprisoned, nor punished. I stopped searching for the truth—an fhírinne—not because I do not want it, but because it would reopen a period of mourning I could no longer endure. I made no promises over a coffin. I do not share the binding commitment to justice that you describe.

Where we diverge is here.

In your letter to Mr Robinson, you range far beyond grief, moving into political challenge and moral instruction. You claim that right, and I accept it. I now claim the same latitude in responding to you.
You have been, at various times, Chief Executive, Editor, and part-owner of the Belfast Media Group. Have you reflected on your own conduct during those years? Have you considered the impact—human, not abstract—of the articles you wrote as Squinter, as Robin Livingstone, or as staff reporter? Do any of those ghosts return to you at night?

Did you, or your paper, ever apologise directly to the families of Stakeknife for the macabre article you authored, which compounded their grief? Did your paper ever apologise to the families of those killed by the IRA as informers, when it carried statements that forced those families to absorb their loss in isolation?

When my own relative was killed, your paper—like many others—participated in that same grim choreography. It hurt.

This is where grief, truth, and justice collide, and where clarity dissolves. None of us—myself included—emerges innocent. The difference is this: I am at peace with the ghosts that come to my door. I own them. I have apologised where apology was owed. I try, consciously, not to repeat what I once did.
So, I return your challenge.

The next time, If you—or one of your journalists—charges off, felon-setting, or into language that brings harm to innocent people, will you pause? Will you consider the hurt that your words might bring or the grief you may be amplifying? Will you recognise that words outlive publication, that they bruise long after headlines fade?

Your sales may dip if you do. But your paper already fishes in shallow waters. If you wish your paper to escape its own macabre past, you will need deeper waters and a larger catch.

And in that sense, it is maybe you who most needs to move on.

Muiris Ó Súilleabháin was a member of the Republican Movement until he retired in 2006 after 20 years of service. Fiche bhliain ag fás.

Dear Robin

Muiris Ó Súilleabháin ✍ responds to Robin Livingstone's open letter to Gavin Robinson.

Dear Robin,

On 10 February 2026 you issued a public statement, via your solicitor, addressed to Gavin Robinson MP, leader of the Democratic Unionist Party.

I too have lost someone close to me in violent and unexpected circumstances. I too have lived with the hurt and heartbreak you describe. It is beyond crass for any politician, from any party, to tell bereaved families to “move on”.

Like you, I do not wish to know who killed my family member. I do not want them imprisoned, nor punished. I stopped searching for the truth—an fhírinne—not because I do not want it, but because it would reopen a period of mourning I could no longer endure. I made no promises over a coffin. I do not share the binding commitment to justice that you describe.

Where we diverge is here.

In your letter to Mr Robinson, you range far beyond grief, moving into political challenge and moral instruction. You claim that right, and I accept it. I now claim the same latitude in responding to you.
You have been, at various times, Chief Executive, Editor, and part-owner of the Belfast Media Group. Have you reflected on your own conduct during those years? Have you considered the impact—human, not abstract—of the articles you wrote as Squinter, as Robin Livingstone, or as staff reporter? Do any of those ghosts return to you at night?

Did you, or your paper, ever apologise directly to the families of Stakeknife for the macabre article you authored, which compounded their grief? Did your paper ever apologise to the families of those killed by the IRA as informers, when it carried statements that forced those families to absorb their loss in isolation?

When my own relative was killed, your paper—like many others—participated in that same grim choreography. It hurt.

This is where grief, truth, and justice collide, and where clarity dissolves. None of us—myself included—emerges innocent. The difference is this: I am at peace with the ghosts that come to my door. I own them. I have apologised where apology was owed. I try, consciously, not to repeat what I once did.
So, I return your challenge.

The next time, If you—or one of your journalists—charges off, felon-setting, or into language that brings harm to innocent people, will you pause? Will you consider the hurt that your words might bring or the grief you may be amplifying? Will you recognise that words outlive publication, that they bruise long after headlines fade?

Your sales may dip if you do. But your paper already fishes in shallow waters. If you wish your paper to escape its own macabre past, you will need deeper waters and a larger catch.

And in that sense, it is maybe you who most needs to move on.

Muiris Ó Súilleabháin was a member of the Republican Movement until he retired in 2006 after 20 years of service. Fiche bhliain ag fás.

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