Much is said about victims. We have a Commissioner for them. She has an office and staff. This costs us about £1,000,000 each year. I have never sought help from them. Why, I hear you say Dear Reader, am I blogging about this, especially on an Ulster summer day? For this reason. Occasionally in the battle for compensation from Libya, a battle won for their citizens by the USA, Italy,France and Germany but disgracefully lost by Perfidious Albion.I have found myself writing about “victims” as if I am one. Also, more than one person has said “you’re forever portraying yourself as a victim”. So I’ve decided to think about what I am. To begin. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about my parents. I’m sure I’m not alone in that. I’m a citizen of the United Kingdom. That gives me rights and responsibilities. I contend that the murders of my parents didn’t take place in a vacuum. They happened when the State had so penetrated the terrorists and so perverted justice that not only did one arm know who killed my parents but at a meeting on the Shankill Road another arm, the RUC , gave the UDA a name and the UFF set out to kill him the night my mother died. He was Sean Keenan, a well known Republican from Riverdale Park South. He survived, as he did when he was shot in 1984, along with Adams. So perhaps I am a vengeful angry citizen. I represented the Crown in court for twenty five years. How many times did the state deceive me and the court? But wait! In some respects I am a victim and I shouldn’t shy away. I’m a victim of people who should have been at my parents’ funeral and weren’t, I’m thinking of a particular grandson. I’m a victim of a spouse whose only solution was to hand me a glass of wine so that she was not bothered by my problems. I’m a victim of the Bar Library which never enquired into my well being for twenty five years until I got into trouble , then briefed Frazer Elliott , that icy cold , presbyterian, paragon of virtue to prosecute me. Not unexpected in that cold house for unionists. I’m a victim of senior police officers who continue to lie to me about what intelligence exists. I’m a victim of the many people who tell me to “get over it” or that it is “a legacy issue” or that “we need to move on”. I’m a victim of those erstwhile friends and colleagues who say “the grief has got to him” and pass by on the other side of the street.I’m a victim of the State which is just passing time until I , and others like me, pass on. So here I stand. A victim. But that is different from victimhood. My daughter criticises me for “not taking responsibility for myself” . An interesting accusation. Instead I’ve taken the responsibility of the fight for justice. I don’t regret that, nor what it has cost me [ my career, my house my family] , nor what the future holds. I can now go several days without seeing or talking to a soul. At the last I hope , though, that some will see me as a son who tried his best for his parents.   Franz Schubert said:” Every night when I go to bed , I hope that I may never wake again and every morning renews my grief.”