​Triumph, Theft and "A Very Bloody Death": Remembering Shergar

On a cold, foggy evening in County Kildare, a horse trailer trundled towards the Ballymany Stud. Clanking into the stableyard, it came to a halt outside the house of head groom James Fitzgerald. A few minutes later, a knock came at the door of the Fitzgerald family home. When James' son Bernard went to open it, he was bundled to the floor by three men wearing balaclavas and Garda uniforms, and armed with handguns.

In the clamour and terror that followed, Fitzgerald Snr. was forced out of the house at gunpoint. He was taken to the stable of the prize stud, Shergar, and forced to load the horse onto the assailants' trailer. There were now up to eight gunmen on the scene, posturing menacingly in their masks and fatigues. Two were left behind to hold Fitzgerald's wife and children hostage, while the rest clambered aboard their small convoy of vehicles. Fitzgerald himself was bundled into a car, as Shergar was driven off into the night.

In an interview with The Telegraph in 2008, an elderly Fitzgerald said: "I can still remember that night in that car with them lads. All sorts of thoughts were racing through my head about what they might do to me. One of them, with a revolver, was very aggressive." Having been driven around a circuitous, disorientating route for three hours, Fitzgerald was ordered out of the car roughly seven miles from the stud. He had been given a password, King Neptune, to use during negotiations. He had also been told that the kidnappers would be looking for a multi-million-pound ransom for the horse.

In the hours that followed, confusion reigned supreme. Fitzgerald rushed back home and – having found his family unharmed – telephoned stud manager Ghislain Drion. He in turn called Shergar's vet, Stan Cosgrove, who then rang Captain Sean Berry, a racing associate and former army officer. Berry informed Alan Dukes, the local MP and Irish finance minister, but he had to deliver his first budget the next day and so passed the news on to justice minister Michael Noonan. Eventually, after eight hours had elapsed, somebody alerted the Garda. That's when the real botch job began.

First off, the police were hampered by the kidnappers' clever planning. Shergar's theft coincided with Goff's racehorse sale, meaning that half the roads in Ireland were choked with horseboxes. In the time it had taken to notify the Garda, the trailer containing Shergar had been plunged into a sea of rattling, clattering traffic, and disappeared without trace. Now, it was imperative that the police acted swiftly and efficiently in their pursuit and identification of the culprits.

Instead, a bungling caricature of a police chief was appointed to oversee the case. His name was Jim "Spud" Murphy, and he wore a trilby wherever he went.

While his boisterous character captured the imagination of the now rabid press, Murphy's skills of deduction were prosaic at best. The police made barely any headway in tracking down the missing horse, while Murphy famously told reporters: "A clue… that is what we haven't got." Before long, he had employed the services of a motley crew of clairvoyants, psychics and mediums in his pursuit of Shergar, sending the investigation spiralling into the depths of surrealism. During one press conference, six reporters mimicked Murphy by wearing trilbies identical to his own. After that, he was quietly sent to the sidelines.

While conspiracy theories were rife among the press and general public, the accepted consensus amongst investigators was that Shergar's kidnapping was the work of the Irish Republican Army. The Ballymany Stud was raided on 8 February 1983, at the height of the Troubles and the peak of the IRA's power. The 1981 Irish hunger strike had fanned the flames of nationalism and anti-British sentiment on both sides of the border and – with Margaret Thatcher's government taking a hardline stance on the Northern Irish problem – the IRA were desperate for cash to fund their operations. In the days after the theft of Shergar, several known IRA hideouts were raided. Still, there was no sign of the horse.

Soon enough, the kidnappers made contact. They demanded that negotiations be carried out by three British racing journalists, namely John Oaksey, Derek Thompson and Peter Campling. Oaksey and Thompson worked for ITV at the time, while Campling was on the books at The Sun. They duly travelled to Belfast, where they were greeted by perhaps the biggest media circus the country had ever seen.

Shortly after arriving in Northern Ireland, Thompson received a phone call at his hotel. A voice which he later described as "cold, chilling" told him that he was being watched, and that he should proceed to a farmhouse roughly 30 miles outside of the city. Having escaped the press scrummage, Thompson followed his instructions. Arriving on a single-track road in the rural wilds of County Antrim, he was intercepted by armed policemen and escorted to the farm.

Once there, Thompson took between 10 and 12 phone calls, each beginning with a different password. He was instructed to keep the caller on the phone for 90 seconds for tracking purposes, but the kidnappers knew to keep their demands brief. When – at around one in the morning – he finally managed to prolong a call, he was told that the man who did the tracking had clocked off at midnight. At this point in the investigation, such absurdities had become par for the course.

Despite all the talking, Thompson only ever received the kidnappers' opening demands. They wanted an initial payment of £40,000, which prompted Thompson to ask for a picture of Shergar next to the day's newspaper. Between one and six in the morning, the phone went silent. Then, just before daybreak, it rang once more. The caller kept it brief: "The horse has had an accident. He's dead."

At the time of the kidnapping, Shergar was probably the most famous horse on the planet. Born and bred in Ireland, he had won a series of minor races on both sides of the Irish Sea before running the Epsom Derby in 1981. Ridden by promising young jockey Walter Swinburn, Shergar won the race by 10 lengths. It was the longest winning margin in the Derby's history, and it made him a sensation overnight.

As Shergar charged towards the finish line that day, BBC commentator Peter Bromley cried: "You'd need a telescope to see the rest!" He became the most celebrated racehorse in the world, and nowhere more so than in Ireland. Owned by the Aga Khan – the spiritual leader of the Ismaili Muslims – his value rocketed to dizzying heights. Having won the Irish Derby and several other races in the months following, he was sent to stand at stud.

Breeders would pay anything up to £80,000 for Shergar to have a colt or filly by their mares. That money was then divided up amongst a consortium of investors, to whom the Aga Khan had sold shares in the horse. It's not hard to see why the IRA wanted to get their hands on such an asset, nor why they went to such lengths to seize it by force. Unfortunately, despite the meticulous planning that saw them spirit Shergar away successfully, there were flaws in the kidnappers' scheme. Those flaws would, ultimately, be Shergar's demise.

While there is no official consensus on the nature of Shergar's death, the most plausible account comes from a former IRA member. In a statement given to The Telegraph via an intermediary, he paints a vivid and violent picture of the horse's last days. According to his testimony, the Army Council – the ruling body of the Provisional IRA – sanctioned the kidnapping. They ensured "safe passage" to a farm in County Leitrim, from where the horse could be ransomed. Things didn't go to plan, however.

First of all, the vet who had pledged to look after the captive Shergar pulled out at the last minute, dissuaded from taking part in the scheme by his wife. Then, the kidnappers found out about the Aga Khan's sale of shares, and realised they would have to negotiate with several parties if they were to secure the ransom. The Army Council ordered that Shergar should be released but, with the national furore surrounding the kidnapping in full swing, the gang felt that this would be impossible to do safely. The Garda were everywhere, the army where everywhere and – with his distinctive white 'blaze' and almost universal renown – Shergar was bound to attract attention if moved.

Though his kidnapping had gone off without a hitch, the ransom process had gone horribly wrong. Accordingly, the gang decided that Shergar had to be disposed of. Two IRA handlers went into his stable, and faced down a horse that had become a national treasure, beloved for his lolloping run and gentle nature. One of them levelled a machine gun at him, and opened fire.

According to The Telegraph's source: "There was blood everywhere, and the horse even slipped on his own blood. There was lots of cussin' and swearin' because the horse wouldn't die. It was a very bloody death." It was in these cruel and callous circumstances that Shergar likely breathed his last. While the IRA most certainly reserved more brutal treatment for their human enemies, the decision to riddle a horse with bullets and leave it to bleed to death epitomises the casual viciousness of the era. The Troubles left people resigned to violence, and the death of a horse wasn't going to make a blind bit of difference to anyone.

Except, it did make a difference. Shergar's disappearance left Ireland in mourning and – much to the IRA's chagrin – shocked the world. If they thought a horse would be an easy target, they were sorely mistaken. When the initial mystery of the case had faded, suspicion for his disappearance (and presumed death) fell squarely on the IRA's shoulders.

For an organisation gradually becoming known for its criminality as much as for its politics, Shergar was another dark blot on the reputation. He is now an indelible part of their legacy, a name synonymous with the darkest period of Republican violence. Meanwhile, in the world of racing, his legacy lives on. A month and a half after Royal Ascot has finished, the world's most famous racecourse will host the Shergar Cup. Horses from Ireland, Britain and the Middle East will run in front of tens of thousands of spectators, and it will all be in the name of Shergar.

@W_F_Magee