It was Enoch Powell, one-time mentor to the Right Honourable Sir Jeffrey Donaldson MP, who said that all political careers end in failure. Arguably none has crashed and burned so rapidly and emphatically as the MP for Lagan Valley’s.
The former DUP leader stood in the dock at Newry Magistrates’ Court, charged with rape. It was something we’d had a month to prepare for yet it still had an air of incredulity.
Flanked by court security at the back of the small, packed courtroom, Sir Jeffrey and his wife Lady Eleanor stood mostly expressionless.
The former DUP leader’s demeanour differed little from what we’ve become accustomed to. There was no sign of weight loss or any other indications that the past month has been especially stressful.
Mrs Donaldson, up to now largely unknown to the public, looked at times bemused by the proceedings, during a hearing that barely lasted eight minutes.
A matter of weeks ago, the man who became leader of the DUP at the second time of asking almost three years ago was at the height of his political powers, readying himself for a forthcoming general election campaign.
As the 61-year-old former UDR corporal stood in the dock at Newry court, thoughts of Westminster’s plush green benches and al fresco lunches with fellow MPs overlooking the Thames could not have been further from his mind.
He, like his 58-year-old wife, maintains his innocence and says he will contest the charges against him, yet there is clear belief that whatever the outcome, the former DUP leader is finished as a public figure.
A privy counsellor, a UK government trade envoy, leading Orangeman, chief negotiator for the DUP in its confidence and supply deal with the Tories – a high-flying political career spanning more than four decades, during which he gained a reputation as a man of principle, lies in ruins.
The couple, assisted by police, had walked separately through a gauntlet of photographers and camera crews to enter the heavily fortified courthouse.
Around two dozen mainly middle-aged members of the public were in the courtroom to watch the brief proceedings. Sir Jeffrey, still wearing his wedding ring, was dressed in a grey suit, white shirt with a turquoise tie, with a pattern of what looked like bunny rabbits. On his lapel, the ichthys symbol, or ‘Jesus fish’, a sign typically used to proclaim an affinity for Christianity.
The petite Mrs Donaldson, employed by her husband in recent years as a part-time secretary, wore a black trouser suit and a light green blouse.
They spoke only to confirm their dates of birth and to say they understood the list of charges against them, dating back to the 1980s. Despite the gravity of what was being alleged, the hearing was matter-of-fact. The judge warning he’d take a dim view if anyone present attempted to make a recording.
At the request of their respective legal representatives, who cited the case’s unusual circumstances, the couple were not taken to the holding cells where bail formalities are usually dealt with, but instead to consultation room, away from the public gaze.
Mrs Donaldson left some 50 minutes later, without her husband.
Sir Jeffrey and his lawyer John McBurney followed shortly afterwards, only to be greeted at the courthouse exit by a crowd of media personnel keen to get a parting shot and members of the public, some of whom shouted abuse.
The Lagan Valley MP was briefly ushered back inside until a car was summoned, the jostling repeated before he was whisked away.
