"That night in bed I thought of something that happened twenty years ago during the war of independence. About five o'clock on an October evening Seamus Mor and Oweneen Mahon came to the door and asked for an envelope and pen and paper. I asked what they wanted them for.
"'Just give them to us, Father, and don't ask any questions.'
"Then I noticed two others a distance away holding a man in a British uniform between them, his hands behind his back. A young man. An officer from the stripes on his arm. The two had leggings and bandoliers and I didn't need to ask who they were. There had been bad trouble the week before in West Cork. I noticed Oweneen was leaning on a spade.
""I will give you nothing of the sort,' I said, 'and if what's in your mind is what I think you're thinking, in the name of Jesus Christ who died for us, put it out of your mind at once.'
"'Give it to them, Father,' said one of the two holding the officer.
"'That I will not,' I said.
"Then the Englishman said in his accent, 'I'd appreciate very much if you would be so kind.' He must have been no more than twenty-one or two. I gave pen and paper to Seamus Mor. I shut the door in their faces and prayed all through that long night. From five o'clock on, I was straining my ears. I heard the shot at six o'clock, barely heard it, plucked by the wind. Oweneen was at my door half an hour later with the envelope. It was addressed to a Mrs Someone, someplace in Surrey, England, I remember. He was sweating and he had the spade over his shoulder. There was fresh clay on it.
"'Take that down to the post-office, Father,' he said, 'and let no one know your business.'
"'May God forgive you,' I said, 'and Seamus too. You've done an evil thing.'
"'Stay out of it, Father,' he said."

-Brian O'Doherty
The Deposition of Father McGreevy