I hope it haunts your every waking minute
In a Londonderry courtroom seven years after journalist Lyra McKee was shot dead during a night of rioting, three men walked free — acquitted of charges that they had assisted her killer. The New IRA claimed responsibility for her death in 2019, yet the masked gunman who fired the fatal shot has never faced a court, and now, with the trial concluded, it seems he may never will. McKee was twenty-nine, a ceasefire baby who had grown up in the promise of peace, and her death — and the silence that has followed it — speaks to how fragile that promise remains.
- After nearly two years of proceedings, the trial ended not with accountability but with acquittals, leaving the identity of the actual killer legally untouched.
- Sara Canning, who was present when McKee was shot, knows who the gunman is — yet the gap between personal knowledge and legal proof has proven unbridgeable.
- The prosecution argued the three acquitted men had accompanied and encouraged the shooter, but the court found the evidence insufficient to convict on any of those grounds.
- Canning described the gunman as someone performing for television cameras rather than acting out of political conviction, stripping the killing of even the grim coherence of ideology.
- With no remaining defendants and no new evidence on the horizon, justice now depends entirely on a confession or a change of heart — possibilities Canning herself considers remote.
Sara Canning spoke after the verdict with the exhaustion of someone who has watched hope methodically dismantled. Three men had just been acquitted of murdering her partner, journalist Lyra McKee, and Canning found herself addressing a person the law could not reach. "I hope you can't sleep at night," she said of the gunman. "I hope it haunts your every waking minute."
McKee was twenty-nine when she was shot in the head during rioting in the Creggan area of Londonderry on April 18, 2019. A masked man fired four shots toward police vehicles; one bullet found her. The New IRA later claimed responsibility, but the person who pulled the trigger has never been held accountable. After nearly two years of trial, it now seems unlikely anyone ever will be.
The three acquitted men — Paul McIntyre, Peter Cavanagh, and Jordan Devine — were not accused of firing the shot. The prosecution argued they had accompanied the gunman to the firing point and encouraged him. Nine men in total faced 52 charges related to the rioting. All denied them. The courtroom, on the question of who killed Lyra McKee, produced only silence.
Canning's portrait of the gunman was withering. She believed he had been performing for cameras — an MTV documentary crew had been filming in Derry that night — rather than advancing any political cause. "It wasn't to free Ireland," she said. "It wasn't to make the life of people in Creggan and Derry and Ireland better." An act of vanity, she suggested, dressed in the costume of conviction.
McKee had been a rising journalist, published in the Atlantic, Buzzfeed, and Private Eye, named young journalist of the year by Sky News, and listed in Forbes' European "30 under 30." She was a ceasefire baby, born into the promise of the Good Friday Agreement. Her death came twenty-one years after that agreement was signed.
The judge acknowledged the acquittals would bring "little, if any, comfort" to McKee's family. The Public Prosecution Service maintained the case had been worth bringing. But Canning knew the difference between a prosecution and justice. Unless the gunman undergoes "a massive change of heart" or compelling new evidence surfaces, she said, accountability seems beyond reach. For now, he remains free, and she remains waiting.
Sara Canning stood in the aftermath of a verdict that changed nothing. Three men had just been acquitted of murdering her partner, journalist Lyra McKee, and Canning found herself speaking into a void—addressing someone she knows exists but whom the law could not touch. "I hope you can't sleep at night," she said of the gunman. "I hope it haunts your every waking minute."
It had been seven years since that April evening in 2019 when McKee, 29, was shot in the head during rioting in the Creggan area of Londonderry. A masked man had fired four shots toward police vehicles. One bullet found her. The New IRA, a dissident republican group, later claimed responsibility. But the person who pulled the trigger has never been held accountable in court, and now, after nearly two years of trial, it seems unlikely anyone ever will be.
The three men acquitted on Friday—Paul McIntyre, Peter Cavanagh, and Jordan Devine—were not accused of firing the fatal shot. The prosecution's argument was narrower: that they had accompanied the gunman to the firing point and encouraged or assisted him. Nine men in total faced 52 charges related to the rioting itself. All denied the charges. One has since died. But on the question of who killed Lyra McKee, the courtroom produced only silence.
Canning, who was with McKee at the time of her death, knows more than most. She knows who the gunman is. She knows what he looks like. But knowledge and justice, she has learned, are not the same thing. When she spoke to the BBC after the verdicts, her words carried the particular exhaustion of someone who has watched hope systematically dismantled. "You have two years where you're just so hopeful, and then it's completely dashed and taken away," she said. The trial had been a difficult process. The acquittals were gutting. And now, she said, it was hard to believe there would ever be justice for Lyra—unless the gunman experienced "a massive change of heart" or investigators uncovered "some really compelling evidence."
Canning's characterization of the gunman was withering. She described him as "pathetic," someone who was "showing off for cameras" rather than advancing any political cause. An MTV documentary crew had been filming in Derry that night, capturing the disorder for a project. The crew left before the shooting began, but their presence had shaped the evening's atmosphere. In footage played during the trial, TV presenter Reggie Yates could be heard suggesting they should leave if their presence was inciting violence. Canning believed the gunman had been performing for that camera, for Yates, for an audience. "It wasn't to free Ireland," she said. "It wasn't to make the life of people in Creggan and Derry and Ireland better."
McKee herself had been a rising figure in journalism. She had written for Buzzfeed, Private Eye, the Atlantic, and Mosaic Science. Sky News named her young journalist of the year in 2006. Forbes included her in their "30 under 30" list for European media in 2016. She was a "ceasefire baby," born after the Good Friday Agreement, part of a generation that had grown up in the shadow of peace. Her death came 21 years after that agreement was signed—a reminder that the peace was not as settled as it sometimes appeared.
The judge, Mrs Justice Smyth, acknowledged the weight of the moment. The acquittals would bring "little, if any, comfort or relief" to McKee's family and friends, she said. The killing itself was "an act of senseless violence." The Public Prosecution Service maintained that it had met its legal test for prosecution and that bringing the case had been in the public interest. The case had "successfully overcome a number of robust legal challenges." But successful prosecution and successful justice are not the same thing either.
Canning's final statement to the BBC carried a particular kind of moral clarity. "I don't possess the hate and the evil in me to hurt people the way that you do," she said, still addressing the gunman directly, still speaking as though he might hear her. The system, she believed, had let Lyra down. And with the acquittals now final, the prospect of accountability seems to rest on something beyond the law's reach—a confession, a change of conscience, or evidence yet to surface. For now, the gunman remains free, and Lyra McKee remains dead, and Sara Canning remains waiting for a justice that may never come.
Citações Notáveis
You've never contributed one thing to this world. What you did that night was pathetic.— Sara Canning, addressing the gunman
Lyra McKee was murdered in an act of senseless violence.— Mrs Justice Smyth, trial judge
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did the prosecution bring charges against these three men if they weren't accused of firing the shot?
The theory was that they were part of it—that they helped the gunman get to the firing point, encouraged him, made it possible. But proving that in court turned out to be impossible. The gunman himself was never identified or charged.
So the actual killer is still out there, and Sara Canning knows who he is?
She says she does. She knows his face. But knowing and proving are different things. And even if she went to the police with that knowledge, it hasn't been enough so far. Seven years, and nothing.
What struck you about her statement—the part about him showing off for cameras?
It reframes the whole thing. This wasn't some grand political act. It was performance. A masked man firing into a crowd because cameras were there, because there was an audience. That's what made it pathetic to her, I think. Not just the violence, but the emptiness of it.
The judge said the acquittals would bring little comfort. Did she suggest there might be other avenues?
Not really. She acknowledged the verdict was what it was. The judge seemed to understand the family's pain but couldn't change the legal outcome. That's the trap—the system did what it was supposed to do, and it still failed.
What does Canning mean when she says the system let Lyra down?
She means the whole apparatus—the trial, the charges, the evidence—couldn't reach the person who actually did it. Three men walk free. The gunman walks free. And a 29-year-old journalist stays dead. That's the system failing, no matter how technically correct the verdict might be.