For one Fermanagh woman, the years between childhood and adulthood were spent in a prison of silence, burdened by the shame and filth she had been made to feel. But she wasn’t the one who should have carried that shame.

Gerard Quaile should have. He was the man who, over years, abused her, stripping away her innocence and leaving scars that time couldn’t heal.

Finally, he has been found guilty, and the darkness that haunted her has, at least in part, been brought into the light.

The road to justice, however, was anything but straightforward. Quaile was the first person, after many investigations by this newspaper, to be sentenced to jail, and it all started when his victim found the courage to walk through the doors of The Impartial Reporter office. Her story, like so many others, was one of trauma, fear, and betrayal, and yet it was also a story of resilience and bravery. Without her courage, without her willingness to trust us with her truth, Quaile might never have been brought to justice.

I remember that period of 18 months from 2019 as a significant turning point for Fermanagh. We were uncovering a murky past, one that had been buried for far too long — a past where evil men repeatedly abused innocent children, within a number of institutions or organisations, and nobody seemed to listen. These stories would never have come to light without the bravery of people like Quaile’s victim, who trusted us to give them a voice. They kept coming forward for 18 months.

The figures are quite stark: 58 cases, 49 victims, 61 suspects, 18 files sent to the Public Prosecution Service, 14 arrests and two cases sent for trial. And now, finally, a conviction.

But it could have been very different. Quaile and his legal team did everything in their power to silence not only his victim but also this newspaper. Over two years, they tried to drag me into court, hoping to use discrepancies in the victim’s statements — discrepancies that were the natural result of trauma — to discredit her. The trial collapsed at one point. There was even a moment when it was said in court that a summons had been issued for me to attend, another attempt to intimidate the media into silence. Through it all, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sorrow for the victim, who had already endured so much.

I think back to that time five years ago when the first of many stories about sexual abuse, unrelated to Quaile, began to surface. That first account was about a paedophile ring in Enniskillen, a case that eventually fell apart. But as more stories emerged, more victims found their voice. One man came forward to say that an Enniskillen businessman had raped him over several years. Another revealed years of abuse at the hands of a school bus driver, David Sullivan. Though Sullivan is now dead, his grisly end remains shrouded in questions that were first posed by this newspaper two decades ago. Questions that still need answers.

Yet it wasn’t just Sullivan’s victims who were failed by the system — Quaile’s victim was too. She had reported her abuse to the police in 2014, but no action was taken. Her shame and embarrassment led to inconsistencies in her statements, which were used to discredit her. During one harrowing incident, she had shouted for help, but no one came. She felt alone, powerless, and unseen for most of her life.

It wasn’t until 2019, after reading an article in this newspaper about historic sexual abuse, that she returned to the police. This time, they acted. But why did it take a newspaper article for the authorities to take her seriously? Why did she have to wait so long for justice? Why didn’t anyone believe her?

Although Quaile was this week found guilty of four counts of abuse, the jury cleared him of three others. The verdict reflected the difficulty of bringing all the evidence to light after decades of silence. But guilty he was, and guilty he remains.

People often ask me, “Whatever happened to that investigation into sex abuse? Why did you give it up?” Some even suggest that we used the victims and then walked away. Nothing could be further from the truth. Many of the cases we investigated fell apart due to a lack of evidence or because the abusers and victims passed away. When they died, the cases died with them.

Through it all, we never stopped giving victims a voice. We signposted them to support services, we urged the police to act, and we kept digging for the truth. But the public needed reassurances, and they needed to see justice served. In Quaile’s case, they got it — but not before years of silence, years of pain, and years of waiting.

And throughout all those years, I believed her. Despite Quaile’s attempts to get me into court, despite the legal battles costing thousands, and the silencing tactics, I never doubted her. Now, I can only hope that she finally finds the closure she deserves.

Justice, however delayed, is justice nonetheless and I hope she is proud today.

She did it.