8 The “Deciding Officer” Gregg Conroy and his everlasting investigation

 8 The “Deciding Officer” Gregg Conroy and his everlasting investigation

All my troubles, the real one, began on the 8th of January - that day I was supposed to get the letter from the Disability Section of Social Welfare in Longford. Unfortunately as my correspondence address I gave the “shop” of one of my friends; the place is more like a store house without electricity, heating and water - basically just walls and locks to secure all belongings. The place is in county Limerick, a small village and of course I didn’t have any access to the mailbox. Therefore for a short time I wasn't even aware of any issue. Last payment of my disability I received on the 8th of January, after that somebody reported me and the officer Conroy began his work. One week after my last payment, which was transferred to my bank account, I noticed that the next scheduled payment didn’t appear on my account. Firstly I thought it might be a system issue. Usually I saw the payment every Tuesday night. By Friday 17th of January I started to worry. I thought that the lack of a permanent address might be a problem, but still didn’t know how “serious” the issue was and in what kind of trouble I already am. The same time I noted that the way I was dealing with my informal status of homelessness reached the end point. Every hospitality and every kind of help we are receiving even from our best friends is going to end at some stage. As much as I didn't want and as much as I postponed that painful moment, I finally crashed with bitter reality. Last place where I stayed, by one of my friends for the night, was in Midleton - county Cork, so from there my first destination was Kenmare - the place where I spent my last ten years and all my savings. As early as I could I arrived in town by the public buses. I was worried I wouldn't reach the place on time, as the local welfare office was open only until noon. I met Miriam - a local officer, who I knew for the last couple of years and explained to her that my payment for last week didn't go through. She checked in the system and told me that I have to contact the main office in Longford and if I have any social worker I should contact the person too, as she wasn't able from her side to check in the system about that matter. So I asked her what I should do. She printed out information about shelters in Tralee - one of them was the legendary Arlington Lodge - the place where they keep all durgies and alcohol addicts. I asked Miriam if I could leave my suitcase and backpack in her office as I needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription. She said: “Yes, but at 12.30 they are going to close the office. So by that time you have to collect your stuff”. I didn’t have any other choice. Left my belongings behind a kind of curtain and went to the pharmacy. Somehow I still trusted the system and I was more than sure that sooner or later it would turn out to be good. That in the end it is not my fault that I am here, that's only a bad coincidence and the state is not going to leave me like that, especially Ireland, my idealized place, the second wealthiest country on that planet; for sure they have some programs, some ways of acting in similar cases.

I contacted a homeless unit in Tralee. They told me exactly the same story like they repeated before: “We are unable to help you, because you don't have the legal termination of the last lease”. I said that I left the previous place of living, as I simply couldn’t afford rent anymore. I repeated myself over and over again. But they were really very immune to my explanation. I contacted Fiona, my social worker, and she said that the next day we could meet somewhere in the town. I suggested “Flower Power” Cafe at Denny Street in Tralee. 

After my first meeting with Fiona we got to the point that the “deciding officer” sent me a letter. Unfortunately I didn’t have access to the letter box. For the next three days neither me, nor my social worker, who called the Longford centre frequently to get any information, we absolutely couldn’t figure out what the matter of investigation was. The only answer that I could hear was: everything is in: “the LETTER”, … the LETTER will tell you everything: THE LETTER! So I asked, if she could finally tell me what is inside that magic and mysterious LETTER, and after a couple of days and a couple of calls supported by couple of clerks, I finally got the answer, that they are looking for statements from my bank account from the period of 1st of May 2024 up to the date. Because I am homeless I didn’t have any possibility to print those statements, so I asked my social worker if she would be so kind and send the statements from which I made print screens to the Longford centre, which she did. 

After I changed my correspondence address for the post office in Tralee, I got the first letter and over a couple of days I replied very honestly to it, bringing lots of details in hope it would support my case. That time I didn't fully understand the nature of that "investigation", naively believing that it is all only about changing my address and moving to nowhere. Every day I went to the petrol station, where I had a moment to myself, a small oasis of peace. I didn't know any other place at that time. My laptop was safely stored in the dining room of the house of evil, which theoretically no one should have access to. I didn't take it out and didn't flaunt it for fear of losing it. So I wrote by hand, but in my absent-mindedness and stress I made many mistakes. Because of this I had to copy the same pages many times. Writing a reply to the letter took me a whole three days. I dated the reply to the official as 1st February. I explain that as long as I was able to support myself, I did not apply for government assistance. I tell how with my last savings I was forced to rent a hotel room in Tralee for an outrageous price; how I was confronted with the reality of the house of evil, where I had no access to hot water and experienced my first humiliation during a visit to the doctor in Kenmare. I tell how it is to sleep in a room full of people who constantly smoke, loudly scroll through their phones until some absurd hours of the night; how every night I have to take a few sleeping pills, which due to the noise and omnipresent smoke do not work anyway - leaving me with terrible migraines and a terrible hangover instead. I describe how I senselessly get rid of my last savings, which were intended to pay the deposit and the first rent. That I have already spent a significant part of this money and there is basically no way to return to normality at the moment. I add that unblocking my benefit will mean that I will be able to apply for state support to pay the rent again, and for all, I will be able to get the help of my social worker again, who in the current circumstances is completely helpless. I finish with information about my stepfather's health - he was still alive at the time and I really feel terrible writing these words, reaching for such arguments. However, I am providing this information because the bank statements requested by the "deciding officer" show quite a lot of Ryanair transactions. I finish with the hope that my explanations will make it easier for him to make a decision. I trust that the clerk on the other side is also human and will understand my situation, which of course I found myself in through my own fault, but driven by naivety and belief in what everyone around me was telling me.

The answer for his next letter I am writing by hand again, for fear of showing off my laptop and in the hope that a letter written in this rather old-fashioned way will show my commitment and dedication. In the second letter Mister Conroy demands that I describe the itinerary of my two journeys. I reply that unfortunately I do not have any confirmations of bookings from Ryanair, because I have never kept them, but from the same bank statements, which he has in the front of his eyes and from which he concluded that during the time he asked I was abroad, it is clear that the duration of my stay was this and that - other bank transactions indicate this and it is clearly visible that all were made from one account including: shopping, small transactions in cafes and restaurants and even taxi rides. It is more than obvious that I did not hide my travels, being completely unaware of any formal restrictions regarding travels. From the content of the letter it is clear that I am still not fully aware of the nature and subject of this investigation, naively believing that the lack of a permanent address caused all the confusion. I even write that: "it may seem strange that I have travelled so much, having so many transactions in Ryanair, but it resulted from the health condition of my stepfather, who is dying of a brain cancer, and as an effect my mother is in a very poor state both: physically and mentally. I concluded with a statement, that I will probably have to fly to Poznań again soon, if not for the funeral - which I hope will not happen so soon, then to support my mother (72 years old, after a stroke, with asthma and depression). I am interrupting the letter halfway, after I learn on Friday 14th February, at night, that my stepfather has just passed away. I am finishing that letter next day, asking for his understanding and requesting that in case of any further questions, he would be able to give me at least a week's break, or even two, because I am not sure yet how long I will stay in Poznań and of course during that time I won't be able to check the mailbox at post office. I am sending the letter to Longford the next day, Saturday 15th February.

I arrive early the next morning day after the funeral the appointment and that same day, after a terrible meeting with Rose of Homeless, I go to the local social welfare office, where I leave a copy of the boarding passes from the last flight to Poznań and the death certificate of my stepfather - of course, during my visit to the office, my emotions give way and I have another panic attack, fits of all-encompassing spasms and I burst into tears. My emotional state is getting worse literally every day.

Every day I check the local post office to see if another letter from Longford has arrived. I have peace for a few days, but I know it won't be for long. Social welfare is also available through mobile phone applications. The problem is, apart from the information that I have been granted disability allowance, but it is not being paid - there are no other details to be found there. However, I see that the matter is pending - my explanations have not helped.

I  collected another letter from the "deciding officer" from the post office on 4th March. The letter is dated 26th February. This time, another request for an explanation of 7 transactions from my account, which were supposed to be linked to Ryanair. The problem is that 3 of them do not exist at all, and in two cases the dates given by Gregg Conroy do not appear on the bank statement. It is not that the transactions given are a day earlier or a day later - they simply do not exist. However, I decide to remain silent in my response and refer to all possible transactions in the given period (from September to December) in the hope that this will speed up the decision-making process and finally allow the matter to be resolved - I already know that the Irish Inquisition (to put it more bluntly) has initiated proceedings because of my transactions related to the airlines, but I do not receive official information about the nature and cause of the "investigation", the law is shrouded in secrecy, and the official's investigation is intricate and thoroughly penetrating. I have no confirmation, because as I mentioned, I did not keep the emails until the problems with Longford, but the statements clearly show in which periods I was in Poland (as I mentioned, the bank statements also show minor transactions, such as: bills in shops, cafes, or taxi fares). I refer to non-existent transactions, assigning instead those that I made even two weeks earlier or later. Most of them - 5 refer to supplementing two reservations with priority boarding (option of additional travel luggage) or the option: extra room for legs (possibility of placing hand luggage in the overhead compartment) and in the last case the purchase of water on board - 3 euros. Only two of the specified transactions, one of which with an incorrect date, concern the purchase of tickets, in both cases to Poznań. I explain that I have a habit of buying the ticket first and then buying the "priority" or "legroom" option. In the letter I also describe the way I was treated after arriving from the funeral. I stop halfway, when I receive a call from Jason from the office, with the joyful information about the time for moving to the "quieter facility". It takes me another five days to get back to a state where I can finish the letter - I don't have the time to write on weekends because I have nowhere to do it - the library is closed and the hostel where I was assigned a bed doesn't have a physical place where I could do it. I describe my experiences from Ash Wednesday, when I was responding to the letter, and I end by saying that at this point all I can do is write down every wicked thing I experience and make it public in every way possible. I make it clear that I have basically accepted the fact that the "investigation" will last forever - I asked several people how long such a circus could take - a year, 10 months, no less than half a year. Well, I understand that this is a small country, not many cases to investigate. You have to fill in the tables in Excel and find a justification for the existence of the position you hold; you have to have results. Once again: all this might be funny if it didn't concern me directly and didn't have a drastic impact on my health. Neither Mr. Conroy nor Mr. Jason O'Mighty nor Rose of Homeless will pay for my rehabilitation, nor will he magically restore my mental health. In six months I'll either end up in a coffin or addicted to heroin (I am not able to cope any longer and have reached the end of my mental capacity). Most people after a possible tragic end would say: oh well, another junkie; no one will look into the case, no one will bother to investigate its matter (I experienced how the system is working, learned that in the most painful way). For the "deciding officer" everything is fine - I receive a supplementary welfare allowance and have a roof over my head, he can dig around and send a letter from time to time asking about further existing or non-existent transactions on my account - such as a lottery. The problem is that I'm 52, these are my last relatively good years and I don't want to waste them in an Irish semi-prison waiting for the mercy of some bureaitch from Longford, who will mercifully decide that the investigation can be closed. I made a mistake, I know that now; a bit too late, that's true, but I can't turn back time. My health hasn't improved either, quite the opposite. 

At the moment I have found myself in a systemic hole again - as long as the lace work in Longford is ongoing, nothing will improve in my life - without savings I am unable to pay the deposit or the first month's rent by myself; I can't get HAP either, because the investigation is ongoing; Work?: in this emotional and physical state I don't think I will find anything anywhere - I sleep 2-3 hours a day, woken up every now and then; I am greeting each new day with a headache and as if I had a hangover - a side effect of sleeping pills; I feel sluggish and slightly dazed by antidepressants; my back won't let me rest; the numbness and inertia in my right arm is getting worse, not to mention the fact that I can't prepare breakfast at a normal time either, because the kitchen opens at 9.30am and immediately after which it is unavailable due to cleaning. Alternative? Sleeping on the street.

I'm going to Poznań for rehabilitation, a spine physio. No one will restore my mental health and returning to normality after such "help" will also take me some time. I have an obligation to inform social welfare and Kerry County Council about my travels - of course I will do it, but at the last possible moment. Maybe from the airport just before departure - not out of malice or fury - that would not help and work against me, but out of fear of the consequences; of the harassment. I do not trust the institutions in this country, I am afraid of them and their reactions. I act according to the rules, but on their edge - this is what experience has painfully taught me.