With one foot firmly planted in the world of enforcement and the other in the realm of legal challenge, his life’s journey is as rich and complex as the landscapes he once patrolled—from the rocky edges of Inis Oírr to the tense border regions of Northern Ireland.
Today, James lives a quiet but active life in Newcastle, Galway City. Widowed since 2002 when his beloved wife Rosaleen passed away, he keeps a strict routine: running daily, fit as a fiddle, still committed to discipline in body and mind. But behind the calm of his current existence lies a career forged in intense experience, moral reflection, and quiet courage.
Beginnings in the Gardaí
Mr Healy’s career began in 1965, in a vastly different Ireland. Jobs were scarce, university education was rare, and emigration loomed over many young men. After successfully completing the Garda entrance exam, Mr Healy was stationed first in Sligo and later posted across the west of Ireland. One of his early formative memories was attending the 1961 All-Ireland final, a day so chaotic that thousands forced their way into Croke Park, leading to scenes of near-disaster—an early exposure to crowd control and public safety that would leave a lasting mark.
Irish was not his strength at the time, and a superintendent who demanded fluency decided Garda Healy wasn’t suitable for a Gaeltacht post. He was soon transferred to Athlone, and later to Tuam, Athenry, and Clifden. His Garda service was far from ordinary. He served across vastly different terrains: the urban bustle of Galway City, the politically sensitive Northern Irish border, and the remote, windswept Aran Islands.
On the islands, policing was as unpredictable as the Atlantic. Healy was stationed on Inis Mór and Inis Oírr, dealing with everything from dangerous sea crossings to sectarian cults. One of the more dramatic events involved rescuing a young woman who had been drawn into a religious sect—Mary’s Little Children—on Inis Oírr. A distraught father from Cork tracked her down with Healy’s help. They crossed rough seas to reach the island, locating the girl just as she was mixing concrete for the sect’s new compound. The girl resisted, citing her age and freedom, but Garda Healy and his colleagues ensured she was safely returned home. The event made national headlines.
There was also the harrowing case of a plane crash on Inis Mór. On a wild day, the aircraft overshot the runway and collided with nearby structures. Miraculously, no one was injured, but Healy was tasked with conducting the initial national investigation. The incident, like many in his Garda career, was a test of resourcefulness in isolated, unsupported conditions.
Meanwhile, on the border, the tensions were ever-present. Healy recounted bomb scares, dangerous surveillance, and operating with insufficient equipment. At one stage, he was part of a nationwide Garda deployment during riots at the British Embassy in Dublin—a violent, unpredictable episode involving projectiles, injuries, and chaos. “We were badly equipped,” he said. “No proper riot gear. Just luck, really.”
Traffic Corps, terror threats, and the Pope’s visit
In the late 1970s, Healy joined Galway’s newly formed Traffic Corps. His duties expanded to managing road safety at major events, the biggest of which was Pope John Paul II’s 1979 visit to Ballybrit. He planned vehicle flows for hundreds of thousands, at a time when communications were entirely analog and liable to fail. It was a logistical mountain—and he and his colleagues climbed it.
He also recalls combing through Salthill hotels under threat of a bomb detonation. In an era before modern bomb disposal units were readily available, guards often had to search without army backup. “We searched it ourselves—foolish in hindsight,” he admitted. Days later, another bomb did explode, causing significant damage.
Remarkably, Healy didn’t stop at a 30-year Garda career. While still serving, he began attending night classes at University College Galway, earning a BA in English and Economics. That led to a law degree (LLB ), and eventually, enrollment in the King’s Inns, the traditional path to becoming a barrister in Ireland.
By 1986, he was called to the Bar. He transitioned into legal practice smoothly, focusing on judicial reviews, particularly cases involving refugees and emigrants. His police experience—marked by discipline, procedural detail, and exposure to real human crisis—made him an exceptional barrister, especially in the technical world of legal drafting.
Healy became known for his precision and fairness. One High Court judge praised his work, saying, “I have never seen such detail and care in a draft.” It was a rare accolade in a profession where words matter more than warmth.
A career of principle
One of his most visible legal successes came when one of his judicial review cases was chosen as Case of the Week by The Irish Times, a point of pride and a signal of the national relevance of his work. He was frequently sought after by major law firms across the country, especially for immigration and refugee-related litigation. He also represented clients in the Financial Services Ombudsman’s office and continued to appear in both Dublin and Galway courts well into his 70s.
He attributes much of his legal clarity to his Garda years. “Being a guard made me meticulous. You had to be. There was no room for sloppiness.”
Despite the seriousness of his dual careers, Healy never lost his love of sport. He once competed in televised sports quizzes, reaching the quarterfinals of Jimmy Magee’s Know Your Sport against tough opponents. He has been to World Cups and European Championships, and remains a devoted supporter of Irish football.
But life hasn’t been without hardship. His wife Rosaleen’s long illness and passing in 2002 were deeply painful.
He continues to run daily, keeps sharp with ongoing legal work, and remains a registered member of the Bar Council. His story is one of resilience, reinvention, and quiet heroism—not through fame, but through service.
James Healy is not merely a man who served the law—he embodies its two hemispheres. From rural arrests to courtroom appeals, from sea rescues to Supreme Court briefs, his journey is one of duty, dignity, and remarkable transition.
In a country where both Gardaí and barristers often operate in silos, James Healy is a living bridge—between enforcement and advocacy, order and rights, tradition and transformation.
