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Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple podcasts or the Wondery app. 1993 Sligo, the Republic of Ireland. In an unmarked car parked opposite a hotel, a man sits with a camera concealed beneath his jacket. He's from Special Branch, the Irish police division tasked with counter terrorism. And today he's carrying out surveillance on a 60 something town councillor, Joe O'. Neill. What are you up to now? O' Neill is a hardline Republican. He's linked to a small paramilitary group known as the continuity IRA. It's 25 years since the conflict known as the Troubles began. The fight is led by the Provisional ira, which aims to get the British out of Northern Ireland and reunite the province with the Republic in the south. So far, more than 3,000 people have died and tens of thousands have been injured. But while the Provisional IRA is the main force fighting British rule in Northern Ireland, dissident Republican groups like the Continuity IRA also pose a threat. The surveillance officer shifts his position, trying to get a clear shot of the man o' Neill is chatting with. He's tall, maybe six foot seven, solid, broad shouldered and thick set. Noticeable. And who's this big fella? The officer opens the window an inch, enough to catch snatches of conversation and a distinct American accent. So you're a Yank. The officer takes a snapshot of the two men shaking hands, smiling. Then the giant American turns and goes into the hotel. O' Neill walks a few yards to where his old battered Mercedes is parked. He stops and looks around. The officer shrinks down in his seat. O' Neill hasn't spotted him. The officer relaxes, starts up his car and heads in the direction of Sligo police station. He needs to get these photos developed and to Dublin as soon as possible. O' Neill and his men are well known to Special Branch, but the American is new and that probably spells trouble. A few hours later. Special Branch Headquarters, Dublin A group of officers sit around a large desk cluttered with folders and half drunk cups of tea. An inspector spreads out the photos of o' Neill and the mystery American. We just got these in from Sligo. Joe o' Neill conducting some kind of business with an unknown male. Do we know anything more about the guy? The snapper says he's American. The Special Branch officers fall silent. This is serious. They do know this. Irish Republican groups are getting money and weapons from sympathizers in America. Every dollar, every bullet keeps the conflict alive. Until now, the Continuity IRA has been a sideshow. A paramilitary group that's all talk, no action. But if it's now got backers in America, it might be about to go operational. This unknown American is now a terror suspect and guilty or not, his life is about to be turned upside down. This is a message from sponsor Intuit TurboTax tax deadline looming and you're stuck in the dark. We've all been there. Sending documents to a taxpro, then playing the waiting game, constantly checking for updates that seem to never come sooner enough. TurboTax changes that match with a TurboTax full service expert and get unlimited support on your taxes at no extra cost, even during evenings and weekends throughout tax season. Simply upload your documents and watch your return progress in real time while you focus on what matters to you. TurboTax experts work to maximize your refund, ensuring you get every dollar you deserve. No more chasing updates or wondering if everything's on track. With TurboTax Expert full service, you'll have the confidence of knowing exactly where your tax every step of the way. Real time Updates only. An iOS mobile app now this is taxes intuit TurboTax. Visit TurboTax.com to match with your expert today. From Wandery, I'm Raza Jaffrey and this is the spy who Beneath the veneer of the everyday lurks the realm of the spy. It's a dank, murky world full of dark corners, sinister motives and corrupted morals. A place of paranoia and infiltration, sabotage and manipulation. In this series we're going back to the final years of the Northern Ireland conflict, also known as the Troubles. After nearly 30 years of violence, the Provisional IRA and the British government are edging towards a peace settlement. But when hardline Irish republicans vow to keep fighting for a united Ireland, an unlikely spy will emerge to help take down the latest threat to peace in Northern Ireland. What you're about to hear are dramatized reconstructions of events based on the information that's been made public. But remember, in the shadowy realm of the spy, the full story is rarely clear. You're listening to the spy who jailed the Omar bomb plotter. This is episode one Friend, Foe or Fortune Hunter? It's July 1994 and on the outskirts of Chicago. David Rupert is in his upstairs office overlooking Calumet Truck Plaza. The Plaza is a self contained town for long haul truckers, complete with 22 fuel pumps, a diner, tattooist, motel and a massage parlor. Rupert eases himself out of his chair and closes the window to block out the rumble of trucks. He's a 6 foot 7 heavyset trucker with gray Hair invoices and final demands lay scattered across his desk. Rupert's 43 and his life and business are unraveling. He has three marriages behind him and owes more than half a million dollars in unpaid taxes. As he contemplates a bit of creative accountancy, there's a knock at the door and a man walks in. David Rupert. The man flashes a badge. Agent Buckley, FBI. The man sits without waiting to be asked. In the past, Rupert's found ways to make his taxes disappear. He fears the FBI have finally caught up with him. He smiles at the FBI man. How can I help you? Buckley pulls some photos from an envelope. Recognize these? Rupert looks at the photographs of himself in Ireland, outside a hotel in Sligo with Joe o'. Neill. Rupert relaxes. Whatever this is, it's not about his more unorthodox business activities. Sure. That's me on vacation in Ireland, saying goodbye to a friend. And how do you know this friend threw a redhead of men in a bar? Two years earlier, Rupert dated a Chicago based lobbyist for Irish Northern Aid, an American organization that supports the idea of a united island through peaceful means. We went on holiday. She introduced me to some of her Irish friends. You still in touch with her? No, we barely lasted a few weeks. But I got a taste for Ireland and I've been back a few times since. I didn't know the FBI were taking holiday snaps. For me, this is serious. That man you're in the picture with is a member of the ira. So what? Doesn't make him a bad person. And he runs a great pub. Buckley leans over the desk. Like I said, your pal o' Neill is involved with the ira. If you want to stay out of trouble, it might be a good idea to tell us anything you know about what he's up to. I don't know anything. Joe's into politics and he'd like the Brits out of Ireland. Show me an Irishman who thinks otherwise. Think about it. Buckley takes out his business card and hands it to Rupert. Think about it carefully. I'll be back. Rupert listens as Buckley's footsteps disappear. And then he picks up the phone and dials o' Neill's number. Joe, it's david. Rupert. Yeah, yeah, listen, I. I just had a visit from the FBI. A month later. Bundoran, County Donegal. A few miles from the border with Northern Ireland. Inside Joe o' Neill's pub, Maureen Brennan taps her feet to the music and looks at the IRA posters that plaster the walls. Maureen's a slim brunette from Dalton, Illinois, and she's on holiday with her new boyfriend, David Rupert. They met at the trucking plaza where she works as a manager. Her mother was second generation Irish and she's always dreamed of going to Ireland. But work and raising her daughter Dory on her own meant travel was never an option. I can't quite believe I'm here, David. It's a dream come true. It is a great place. I knew you'd love it. Maureen. I'm just going to the restroom. Maureen looks at the pub's owner, Joe o', Neill, but he's too caught up in conversation with another man to notice her. From where she's sitting, she catches the odd snatch of what's being said. I reckon they're actually going to declare a fecking ceasefire. Starting to look that way. The Bravos are starting out my dead body. What we need is a continuity IRA bombing campaign. Show them you'll never give up. Maureen stiffens. She's not naive. Her mother often talked about the terrible injustices the Irish have suffered at the hands of the the British. And she knows about the armed struggle, but she didn't think the people in this pub looked like the kind of people who would be involved in it. She sips her drink, frowning as David returns all okay. I just love this pup. And Joe's a character. You like him, don't you? I do, but. What's up? Who's that he's talking to? She nods to the balding man with a graying beard. Him? No, that's Mickey Donnelly. I heard him talking about a bomb campaign. You need to understand, Maureen. He's one of what they call hooded men arrested by the Brits, locked up without trial and tortured. Easy to understand why he's not in a hurry to forgive them. We're talking about bombings at a bar, David. I'm used to working around truckers. And now our men talk. But it all seems a bit out of place, to be honest. That's what I thought the first time I came here. But I've talked to Joe a lot about the situation, and I'm not saying he's right, going around killing people. But I think I understand why people here feel they can justify it. That's just what it's like in Ireland. The following month Chicago Inside his office at Calumet's Truck Plaza, David Rupert sifts through more bills and tax demands. His recent holiday in Ireland already feels like a distant memory. Rupert looks up. He's not expecting anyone. Who is it? Without answering, in walks FBI Agent Buckley. Afternoon, David. Mind If I come in? Seems like you already have. Might have a sit down. Seems like you already are. Listen, I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot last time. And I'm sorry if I gave the impression that we thought you might be mixed up in anything. I'm not. We know. And that's why I'm here. To apologize. Or is there something else? Let me explain. There's a real chance of achieving peace in Northern Ireland, and President Clinton is putting his weight behind it. The provisional Iraq have announced a ceasefire, but the question is, will it hold? Or will splinter groups like the Continuity IRA keep on fighting? You think I know the answer? I think you could help us find the answer. Buckley eyes the receipts on Rupert's desk. You love Ireland. Yeah. So what if we pay for your trips? All you've got to do is tell us what you see and what you hear. So you're saying just travel, stay in touch with friends, and the FBI foots the bill? That's right. Rupert thinks for a moment. It's tempting. He looks out of the window and watches a truck rolling in. This is the life he knows. But it doesn't amount to much. Ireland is where he feels most at home now. I'll think about it. But I need to tell Maureen, my girlfriend, who's funding the trips. We're planning to marry. And I've had three marriages already. I'm gonna start this one by lying to her. Later that evening, Rupert's house, just south of Chicago. Rupert and Maureen sit together on the couch, watching a police drama on the tv. Maureen is relaxed, but Rupert is uneasy. Maureen, there's something I need to discuss. He tells her about the FBI visits and the offer Buckley made that afternoon. Maureen switches the television off. The FBI following you, wanting to pay for our trips. Jesus, David, is this stuff you know you haven't been telling me? No, no, I swear to God. That's the thing. Joe o' Neill tells me stuff about the ira, but he just wants me to understand the situation better. If he knows anything about their operations, he's never let on to me. But if the FBI wants to pay for our trips to Ireland, why not take them up on that offer? And if we do find out more, then perhaps we can get more money from it. I don't know. I heard these people talking about bombs. Is it worth the risk, just for free trips to Ireland? I've got a daughter. I don't want to get into any trouble. You know, Maureen, I love you. And I'm gonna tell you something. I'VE never told anyone before. Sometimes I look at my life and I see three failed marriages and a load of debts. I want my next marriage to last a life. And I want to do something more with my life. What do you mean? I don't believe it's right to kill people. So yes, it's a risk. But we'll be paid for taking that risk. This could be the way out of the mess I'm in. And what if we could actually do something that might help stop the bombs? Rupert looks at Maureen. It reaches out, takes his hand and squeezes it. It's the answer he hoped for. They are in this together. Spring 1997 Chicago it's more than two years since the FBI recruited David Ruby and he's now a fully fledged spy. The FBI pay him $2,500 a month to pose as a successful haulier to his Irish pals. His debt ridden trucking business is now his cover. He and Maureen have married, and with her Irish roots and his contacts in Ireland, they've managed to get close to Chicago's Irish community. And today Rupert's attending an Irish Republican fundraiser in a local school hall. And the FBI wants to know what's going on behind the scenes. Five tickets for a dollar and the chance to win seats for the next Bears game. Rupert threads his way between cupcake stalls and raffle sellers. The fundraising is on behalf of the Irish Freedom Committee, which supports the families of IRA prisoners. Prisoners. A woman approaches the raffle seller. I'll have 20 tickets. She smiles at Rupert. All in a good cause. Sure. Good luck. He heads over to a smart suited octogenarian with a thin mustache who stood outside the school office. Hey Frank, you got a great turnout here. People are generous. We should do well today. Frank grew up in Northern Ireland in the 1930s. He faced trial himself for IRA membership before fleeing to Chicago where he set up a bar. Now he's also the chief organizer of these fundraisers for Irish Republican causes. David, come inside the office with me for a moment. I want to talk to you. Frank ushers Rupert into the adjoining room. He sits on the edge of a desk and waves Rupert into a chair. I was wondering, do you have another trip to Ireland planned anytime soon? Nothing concrete, but business is doing well and Maureen and I like to visit as often as we can. Is there anything you'd like me to do while I'm there? It's more of a case of what you might be able to take with you. Rupert senses what's coming. The parents in the hall outside Believe they're raising money for families of IRA prisoners. But unbeknownst to them, Frank secretly channels much of the funds to the Continuity ira, the paramilitary group that his friend Joe o' Neill belongs to. You're a friend of Joe o', Neill, aren't you? I like to think so. And I hope he thinks of me as a friend, too. So what I'm saying is, we're raising money here in Chicago, and Joe needs that money in Ireland. And perhaps there's a way of getting it to him. Standing right in front of me. Sure. Whatever I can do to help. Rupert is delighted. Frank wants to him to be the courier for the Continuity ira's gun money. And this should please his FBI bosses. It's the perfect cover for his spying activities in Ireland. And if he's the money man, then he's more likely to be trusted, too. A few months later, Bundoran, Ireland. Rupert is in the office above Joe o' Neil's publisher. He and Maureen are back for another vacation, but this time he and Maureen are staying in their new holiday home, which o' Neill helped them find. Are you all settled in now? Maureen likes the place. She does. We both do. That's good. This area could do with more American tourists. And I'm not just talking about the money they bring, though that's welcome. Now, it's the understanding that helps. The more people who visit and better understand the situation, the better the chances of achieving our goals. You know, Maureen and I both love this part of the world, and you've really helped me understand the situation here. Jo. I'd like to do more if I can. If there's anything else I can do to help the movement, then just let me know. Well, there is something. As it happens, we need more than just cash from the States. We need supplies, too. We know where to get hold of them. And there's a teacher in Donegal willing to receive parcels at her school. She'll see they reach me. We just need someone to mail the stuff. If we're talking bomb parts here, I'm happy to help. But is it safe to send them to a school? I mean, what if one of the kids. Don't worry. We thought of that. Nothing's assembled. The detonating cords are contained in skipping ropes, and the explosives will be hidden inside teddy bears. Rupert forces himself to nod and smile. He can't do anything illegal without the FBI's consent. But the reality of what the people he's involved with are prepared to do hits him. He thinks of o' Neill As a friend and a man of faith. But he's also a man willing to smuggle bomb parts through a playground filled with 6 and 7 year olds. I'll see what I can do, Joe. I'll do whatever I can to make a difference. Two MONTHS LATER Southampton, England it's just after breakfast and David Rupert is walking around the gardens and of his hotel with a man called Norman. Norman works for MI5, the British Security Service, which has asked the FBI if they too might meet their man in Ireland. Norman's tall, almost the same height as Rupert. Tall enough for Rupert to feel he can level with him. Norman, I want you to know that I'm fully aware that I got the MI5 potential informant record last night. I'm not sure I know what you mean. I hope they gave you a good room. Sea view and all that. Sea view, but hot as a sauna. I didn't get any sleep. I'm guessing you rigged the heating. I know sleep deprivation is a great way to tell if someone is lying or not. I'm. I'm sorry you didn't sleep, but you're crediting us with rather more power than we have. But there are a few things I'd like to go over which you. I'm still trying to understand how someone with no Irish ancestry ends up being asked to move bomb parts for the continuity ira. Rupert explains about the Irish scene in Chicago, the holiday with a girlfriend, and how he started spying for the FBI. And my five wants to make sure his story stands up. So Joe became a friend and he taught me about Irish politics. About. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. Norman seems satisfied with the story, but then asks a question Rupert didn't anticipate. And what would you say if we asked you to assassinate one of the continuity ira? Well, I guess that would depend on how much you're willing to pay. I get a good salary from the FBI. No, we're not in the assassination business. I'm just testing you. I'm glad to hear it. I won't kill anyone. But I do expect to get paid for the risks I take. My help comes with a price tag. A few weeks later, Chicago. Rupert sits across a table from Norman. This time in an air conditioned hotel room in downtown Chicago. Norman pulls his jacket tighter around him. Oh, it's cold in here. Perfect temperature for me. I'm sorry if you're not comfortable. I could call reception if you like. Don't worry. Do you need me to go through the details again? No need. I Got it. Rupert leans back and repeats the details of the conversation they've just had. My job is to go to Ireland as often as possible. Report back on the splits in the Republican movement. Who wants peace? Who wants war? Each trip I'll meet with you. If I ever need the emergency line, I'll call and give the phrase it's a bit drizzly and Drumcliffe echo. I'll buy encryption software, install it on my laptop and email my report straight to you. That's almost word for word. I'll let you into a personal secret. I had an astigmatism as a kid. I was slow to read, so I had to memorize all my textbooks. Comes in handy now. Indeed. So that's the job you're offering. But what's the pay? Norman sits back in his chair. We can offer you $50,000 a year on top of what you already make with the FBI. Is that acceptable? I'll shake on that. Rupert's now an official MI5 operative, planted among the most fanatical reports Republicans. His money's almost doubled, but if anyone finds out who he's working for, he'll be a marked man. December 1997. Four months after David Rupert agreed to spy for MI5. Falcara, County Donegal, Ireland. A car pulls up outside a former Catholic boarding school and out steps a small, balding man with glasses. He's Michael McKevitt, the former quartermaster of the Provisional IRA's Northern Command, the man who manages the terrorist group's supplies of weapons and equipment. With him is his wife, Bernardet Sands. McKevitt, who's also the sister of martyred hunger striker Bobby Sands. They head inside the building, following signs of to an Irish language seminar. Officially, that's what the former schoolhouse has been booked for. Unofficially, it's the Provisional IRA's general convention, and McKevitt, who quit the organisation two months earlier, is here to disrupt it. We'll wait a moment. He pauses outside the door. From inside, he can hear Martin McGinnis addressing the room. McGinnis is a member of the Provisional IRA's Army Council and deputy leader of its political wing, Sinn Fein. The ceasefire is still in place, and as the peace talks continue after almost 30 years of violence, it's become clear to many Republicans and the British government that neither side can win this fight. So now the Provisional IRA is ready to suspend its military campaign to enable peace talks with the British to take place. There is widespread support for this within the Provisional IRA, but McKevitt is vehemently opposed. Christ almighty, has he Forgotten who controls the keys to the gun rooms? Right, we're going in. The room falls silent as the McKevitts enter. Everyone here knows they're dead set against making a deal with the British. Having made an entrance, McKevitt waits for his turn to speak. I think it's clear what's going on here. The Army Executive is giving up on everything we have fought for. But there are those of us who will continue to fight until we have a united island. Many people in the room support the ceasefire, but there are plenty who agree with McKevitt, too. After making his point, McKevitt walks out along with his wife and several other IRA hardliners. Once outside the hall, he turns to speak to them. I take it all of you follow me because you are willing to continue the fight for your justice. Of course. Absolutely right. Good. Because I'm still in control of the IRA weapons caches. So from now on, we work together as the Real ira. The Provisionals are yesterday's men. We're the future. We're the ones who are going to win this war. Two months later Moira, County Down, Northern Ireland just after 11pm a small car eases into a roadside bay outside the Royal Ulster Constabulary police station. The man at the wheel sits very still for a moment, fingers tight on the steering wheel. He's a member of McKevitt's new splinter group, the Real Iraq. He checks the police station's facade and turns off the engine. He walks down the street to a waiting saloon car and gets into the passenger seat. The car is driven by a member of the Continuity Iraq. And tonight, these two men are staging one of a series of planned joint operations between the two hardline Republican groups. They stop a few blocks from the station, alongside a public phone box. The Real IRA man gets out, walks over and takes a handful of coins from his pocket. He lifts the receiver, dials the number of the Maze Prison in Belfast. This is the real Irish Republican Army. A device has been placed outside the Moira police station. Detonation in 10 minutes. Later that evening, Bundoran, Republic of Ireland McKevitt is at home watching the evening news with his wife Bernadette and several Real IRA lieutenants. Listen up. He shushes them as news of a bomb at the Moira police station is announced. Eleven people have been injured, including seven police officers. Witnesses. The men in McKevitt's home cheer. Aided by the Continuity IRA, the Real IRAs just carried out its first successful operation and sent a message to Britain that the armed struggle isn't over two months later Belfast, Northern Ireland Outside Stormont, the Northern Ireland Assembly Building, the world's media waits. A TV news reporter checks his watch. Inside the building, representatives from Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, Britain and America are hammering out a peace deal. The deadline for reaching a deal was midnight. It's now late afternoon and there's still no word. The TV reporter and his cameraman walks towards a mixed group of Catholics and Protestants holding a prayer vigil for peace. Can I ask you a few questions? Why are you here? What are you praying for? I just hope they sign the deal and we need to move, move forward. We've had enough of the bombings. Everybody here is praying for peace. The reporter looks at his watch. As each hour passes, so does the hope for an end to Northern Ireland's bloody war. Then his cell phone rings. It's a colleague who's watching the negotiations from its inside the building. He listens and turns to repeat what he's just been told to the people outside. They've done it. It's signed. The following day, the Republic of Ireland. David Rupert drives his rental car out of the town of Bundorin. Joe o' Neill in the passenger seat. Rupert's agreed to give him a lift, but he doesn't know where he's going or why. So where are we headed, Joe? Is your Mercedes finally given up? The ghosts let it, Kenny. I'll tell you when to turn. And no. The Merc still breathing, but it's too recognizable. Rupert's hands tighten on the steering wheel. The rest of the country is welcoming the signing of the Good Friday Agreement and hoping that the troubles are finally over. But o' Neill is in no mood for celebration. Whenever they pass a police car, o' Neill lifts his hand to half cover his beard. He clearly doesn't want to be recognized. What's all this about, Joe? We're scouting for roadblocks. McKevitt is planning a response to the Good Friday Agreement and the assume. You're not talking about speeches here. No, lad, I'm talking about using a rocket launcher to blast a police Land Rover on the other side of the border. Rupert nods as if in agreement, but his stomach lurches. The ink is not yet dry on the peace deal and the hardliners are already planning more bloodshed. We need to act today while the media's attention is still focused on Northern Ireland. If we leave it too late, this will be just another attack. If we do it within 24 hours of the deal, it will show what they agreed means nothing. Rupert keeps his Eyes on the road. They are now at the border with Northern Ireland and they've not passed a single police checkpoint. O' Neill visibly relaxes. No checkpoints means little chance of the operation being foiled. Right, that's us. Roads look clear enough. Head back Now. Rupert drives back, jobs off o', Neill, then parks a few streets away and uses a phone box to call the emergency number given to him by MI5. He needs to alert them to O' Neill's latest plot. The next day, Bondoran. In the graveyard behind the church, Joe o' Neill stands by the grave of an old paramilitary comrade. He looks up on hearing someone approaching. It's Mickey Donnelly, the man he's been waiting for. Donnelly was one of the original members of the Provisional ira. He defected to o' Neill's Continuity IRA when the Provisionals took the first steps on the road to peace. And the look on his face is anything but peaceful now. What the hell happened yesterday? You said you checked the road. I did. Drove it myself there and back. It was completely clear that there were Garda everywhere this morning, so we couldn't move the rocket launcher. Someone must have spotted you. Your car stands out a mile. I didn't take it. I'm not stupid. David drove me in his eye car. While McKevitt's furious. He wanted to attack while the press was still in Belfast. We've missed that chance. Now maybe they anticipate better the move and put in patrols as a precaution. No, it's too much of a coincidence. Either you got spotted or somebody's tipped them off. There's a spy. I'm sure of it. The two men stare at the gravestone of the IRA man, contemplating these latest nails in the coffin of the Republican movement. Their former commander has signed up for peace and the numbers of those willing to continue the fight are dwindling. If there is a traitor in their midst, they need to root out whoever that is before their war for a united island is completely lost. Wondery plus subscribers can binge full seasons of the Spy who early and ad free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to the spy whoanderee.com from Wondery. This is the first episode in our season the spy who jailed the Omar bomb plotter. A quick note about our dialogue. We can't know everything that was said or done behind closed doors, particularly far back in history. But our scenes are written using the best available sources. So even if a scene or conversation has been recreated for dramatic effect. It's still based on biographical research. We used many sources in our research for this season, including the Accidental Spy by Sean o', Driscoll, the Spy who is hosted by me, Raza Jafri. Our show is produced by Vespucci with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant, this episode was written by Lizzie Enfield and researched by Louise Byrne. Our managing producer is Jay Priest for Vespucci, our senior producer is Ashley Clivery. Our sound designer is Alex Portfelix. Natalia Rodriguez is the supervising producer. Music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Fris and Sink. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turkin. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Theodora La Ludis and Marshall Louis.