Daughter of Greysteel victim John Burns recalls harrowing impact of 1993 massacre

My family were originally from Greysteel, but due to our family’s home been under attack every marching season because of our religion we had to move frequently.

My dad was ex-UDR CGC, so we moved to Eglinton which was a very mixed community. We thought that we could start over and have the life we craved, without the fear of our house coming under attack.

So, from the age of 8 to 14, the place where we lived felt like a safe environment, away from the conflict of division. Every Saturday night, my mum and dad went out to the Rising Sun bar at Greysteel for a drink with their friends.

It was the only time mum and dad drank or socialised; it was their escape for a few hours a week.

So, during the day of the 30th , my dad took me into Derry shopping; I remember that we went to H. Samuels where he bought me a wee chain that said: ‘Daddy’s little angel.’

For some strange reason, and I really don’t know why, but all day I thought something was going to happen; it was just out of character for daddy to take me to Derry.

But, as the day and evening went on everything was a just a normal family day. We just had our dinner and mum and dad started to get ready.

My big bro’ Gregory (God rest him) was looking after me but as soon as mum and dad went out, I was straight over to my friend, Mandy Carton’s house as you do.

Mandy had been out that night with her friends for Hallowe’en, so I was just in with her mum. They were a great family that I will never forget.

While I was with them, there was a knock at the front door which I went to answer, but when I opened the door, two fellas from the village were standing there.

One said: ‘Jillian, get to the house; there has been a mass shooting in the Rising Sun.’ My first reaction was WTF, but bolted out the back door to make my way over to the house. I met Mandy, and she told me that both my parents had been shot; I dropped to my knees.

When I finally got up, I ran to the house but I could see was people everywhere; they were coming from everywhere; it was like a scene from a movie. Mandy and me rang a local taxi man - George Hamilton to take us into Altnagelvin because I needed to see my daddy.

When the taxi arrived, George immediately told us that daddy was dead, which made me run back to the house where I threw up for a solid hour.

Another taxi driver arrived, and he who took me to Altnagelvin Hospital, although looking back, I should have been there ages ago. As we approached, there ambulances, doctors, nurses everywhere.

There was the smell of blood in the air and it has stuck with me ever since; there was the sound of screaming and gunshot wounds everywhere.

My head just couldn’t cope, so the driver took me home. But when we got there I had to deal with coming out of one door and out of the other, with the Media there as well.

My world had been torn to pieces at the age of just fourteen, and it didn’t stop there as mummy had also been shot at the scene; she was critical in Intensive Care.

It was a strange time for me, having lost my daddy, murdered in cold blood, and knowing that mummy was fighting for fighting for her life.

Words cannot express my feelings and emotions which I was going through and what myself and my brothers were facing; there was challenging days ahead. We were dealing with daddy’s wake as well as having to visit mummy twice a day and not being able to tell her that daddy was dead.

She was too sick to be told and had she known, it would have killed her. She could only communicate with us by writing on a board as she had tubes going down her throat, preventing her from speaking.

I remember her writing down a message asking how daddy was, but all I could tell her not to worry as someone was sitting with him. I think that she knew though, because she lifted her arms in the air and then dropped them on the bed; it broke my heart.

The family took turns with her whilst the wake was going on; I had never seen anything like it in my life, people coming in and out to pay their respects.

This went on 24 hours a day for a full three days. I seriously thought that my head would go, as it was a whirlwind with friends as well as the media.

Then the day of the funerals arrived, but as they were largely all at the same time, we unfortunately were unable to attend their burials. By the time of daddy’s funeral, I still hadn’t slept; I was just a child on auto mode.

On the day, there were people everywhere as well as reporters; it was one of the biggest funerals in Limavady. The local High School did a guard of honour at the end of St. Canices which is where I totally broke down and couldn’t walk anymore; I had to use the funeral car.

The service was lovely and though daddy got the send-off and the dignity he deserved, my mammy wasn’t there.

Then sadly, the minister had to go to the hospital and inform her that her husband and the father of her three children hadn’t made it and was being laid to rest.

Remembering the victims in Greysteel

The staff in the ICU were so amazing and understanding, moving mum to a little room of her own so that she could watch TV in privacy.

Following the funeral, I was facing a future and didn’t know what it held in store for me. All of these questions were buzzing around my head whilst at the same time, I didn’t even know if mummy was going to make it.

How was I going to make it without daddy; why did this happen to us; why wasn’t this stopped; have I even got a future? My mum was still critical, we had just buried my dad and my head was finding it impossible to soak up everything that was going on around me.

I had to realise that I needed to forget my teenage years and grow up fast; I lost out on my late childhood because of the circumstances. I was a 14-year-old girl who had to try turn into an adult overnight.

I was dealing with grief, loss, confusion, anger, frustration, stress, worry as well as trying to cope with helping mum as much as I could. She was confined to a chair for four years, having to have all her insides rebuilt back up again.

So, when it was time for mum to come home, I moved back in and helped as much as I could. This only lasted for short periods of time as she was in and out of hospital over the years, having 174 operations to help her to recover as much as possible.

Court records show how the UDA planned the Greysteel massacre