trauma

Portadown, Northern Ireland – When the summer holidays arrived, Chris Nelson worried about his mother.

At night, he lay awake waiting for her to return. During the day, he rang family members to ask if she was safe. There were threats and letters through the door.

“I was afraid to leave the house,” he told Al Jazeera.

His mother, Rosemary Nelson, was a lawyer representing the Catholic residents opposing the Protestant Orange Order parade along Portadown’s Garvaghy Road in Northern Ireland in the late 1990s.

Every July, as marching season approached, there was a standoff.

Orangemen sought to return from Drumcree church along what they regarded as their traditional route. Residents opposed the passage of the anti-Catholic organisation through a majority Catholic street. In some years, police forced the parade through. In later years, it was blocked.

Rosemary would spend summer evenings alongside the residents on Garvaghy Road. Before leaving home each evening, she told her son that she was going to look after families and make sure their children were okay. She compared them to his friends at primary school.

“She was a big believer in helping the underdog,” said Chris, now 39. “She did a lot of work for free.”

His mother helped people from both sides of the community. When work allowed, the family went to Bundoran, across the border, and for a day the fear would pass.

But one night, during a standoff in 1997 when the state police force, the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), used batons to clear Catholic locals from the road, “she was beaten by the police”, said Chris. “She was spat on”, bruised and bloodied.

“That was very traumatic. I was always thinking something was going to happen to my mum.”

On a Monday in March 1999, nearly a year after the Good Friday Agreement brought an end to the conflict, Rosemary drove away from her home in Lurgan.

As she braked at a nearby junction, a bomb beneath her car exploded. Her eight-year-old daughter, Sarah, was at primary school nearby and heard the blast. The family had spent the previous weekend in Bundoran together.

Chris, 11 at the time, and his older brother were away on a school ski trip when they received a phone call with the news of her death.

“That was hard”, he said, his voice tailing off.

A legacy of loss

Nearly three decades later, another standoff has recast these childhood memories into fears for the next generation, with a renewed attempt by the Protestant Orange Order to march through the Catholic neighbourhood, threatening to unravel a fragile peace.

The Troubles began in the late 1960s as protests by Catholics against discrimination were met by repression and violence. Republican paramilitaries fought for a united Ireland as loyalists and the army battled to preserve British rule, in a conflict that killed more than 3,500 people.

The 1998 Good Friday Agreement established a framework for peace and power-sharing.

Under the agreement, the people of Portadown have lived in relative peace for the past 28 years.

But this was suddenly unsettled by a last-minute decision by the High Court to allow the march. In response, Catholic residents blocked the road. Many camped out as Orange men gathered at the top of the road, awaiting police permission to pass – an image of division that never truly left.

Many of the Garvaghy Road residents are now parents, and fear what their children might inherit from a dispute they hoped had been left behind.

Paul O’Connor, of the Pat Finucane Centre human rights group in Northern Ireland, said Rosemary Nelson is among 21 people whose deaths were linked to the Drumcree dispute.

Many are still being investigated, with families continuing to seek justice and pressing for public inquiries amid concerns about collusion between the British state and loyalist paramilitaries, many of which were members of the Orange Order.

“These murders encompass LVF (Loyal Volunteer Force) killings at that time, and are all linked to the Drumcree disputes. They were responsible for many of the killings around the Mid Ulster area at that time. They were trying to destabilise the peace process, with many riots spreading around, including into Derry,” O’Connor told Al Jazeera.

He worked with Rosemary Nelson and is now seeking a public inquiry into the murder of Sean Brown, another Drumcree-linked case, he believes. The 61-year-old father of six from Bellaghy, County Derry, was abducted and murdered in May 1997.

The following year, the three Quinn brothers – Richard, 10, Mark, nine, and Jason, eight – died after loyalists petrol-bombed their home in Ballymoney, County Antrim, as they slept. Their deaths, during the unrest surrounding Drumcree, brought widespread calls for the Orange Order to end its standoff.

Fear and loathing in Mid Ulster

In Portadown town centre, a Union flag flies among plinths dedicated to the Ulster Defence Regiment, a locally recruited unit of the British army and the Ulster Covenant – a document signed when nearly 500,000 people opposed a form of self-government for Ireland in 1912.

Around the corner, in the Edgarstown housing estate, Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) flags hang from lampposts, and the kerbs are painted red, white and blue, alongside a mural of a Rangers FC badge.

The area is one of the heartlands of unionism. The Orange Order was founded in 1795 in the village of Loughgall, a few miles from Drumcree.

The Orangemen say they have marched the route through Garvaghy Road since 1807. The parade has been blocked from Garvaghy Road since 1998, but the Orangemen have continued submitting requests to march.

The latest Parades Commission decision permitted 35 men to walk without music. Since then, Orangemen have repeatedly approached the police line before returning to the church.

Irish nationalists have criticised the police assessment underpinning the decision to allow the march, while unionists have denounced police for failing to forcibly remove protesters blocking the route.

Al Jazeera contacted the three main unionist parties – the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), the Traditional Unionist Voice (TUV) and the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) – for comment but received no response.

Addressing around 200 supporters in Portadown, loyalist activist Jamie Bryson described protesters as “an unlawful snarling mob”.

He has called for the First Minister, Sinn Fein’s Michelle O’Neill, and police Chief Constable Jon Boutcher to resign, and demands that the Orange men must be allowed to walk the Garvaghy Road.

O’Neill has faced criticism for standing beside the protesters.

At Drumcree Church, the Orangemen were not marching, but sitting down drinking tea and eating crisps. Around six men, one wearing his sash, huddled under a gazebo in the cold.

“We are waiting patiently for the chief constable to apply the law of the land,” Nigel Dawson, the Portadown Orange Order district master, told Al Jazeera.

“Portadown District has never in its history stopped a parade down the road to have a confrontation with its neighbours, ever. So I don’t know where the fear and trepidation comes from.”

Another Orangeman, who requested anonymity, added: “We are determined to get home after Sunday service … We just want to go home.”

Around a mile further down the Garvaghy Road, Irish folk band the Mary Wallopers performed to hundreds of residents and supporters.

Children danced and slid down the embankment, as parents watched from above. Palestine and Ireland flags flew in the wind.

Linda O’Neill, 51, a Garvaghy Road resident, told Al Jazeera the scene would have been unimaginable 30 years ago.

“It was horrendous growing up as a teenager. We stayed in our own community. We didn’t access the town centre … This community was a ghetto. And that was deliberate.”

Another resident, Ciaran O Ferghail, remembered summers spent surrounded by British forces.

“This community was turned into a war zone. There were tanks and British Army everywhere, thousands of RUC. This community was completely under siege every summer, by the Orange Order, the British military, the RUC and loyalist paramilitaries. We were surrounded on every road and in every direction.”

O’Neill said the confrontation changed as residents began asserting their rights.

In 1995, hundreds sat down on Garvaghy Road to block the parade. The ensuing violent standoff between security forces and Orangemen and their loyalist supporters ended in a compromise allowing the march through. Residents say they understood it would be the last.

But the following summer, the parade returned. Police initially blocked it, then reversed course after five days of widespread loyalist attacks. Officers forced residents off the road and beat them, sparking riots in Catholic communities.

In 1997, security forces sealed off the Catholic neighbourhood before dawn and allowed the parade through at midday amid loyalist threats to kill Catholics if it was stopped. Nationalist protests and violence followed. From 1998, the march was banned from Garvaghy Road. But for residents, summers remained marked by the army’s steel barricades until 2000.

Lessons from the past

Chris Nelson, almost 40, is around the same age his mother was when she was killed.

The Garvaghy Road protests mark the first time he has chosen to speak publicly about his mother.

He went on to study law at university, but says his life would have followed a different trajectory if she were still here.

The public inquiry into his mother’s death found no evidence that state security agencies had “directly facilitated” her murder, but it “could not exclude the possibility” that individual members of those agencies had helped the perpetrators.

The inquiry brought the past back repeatedly as he tried to get on with his life. But seeing photographs of families linking arms on Garvaghy Road brought back unavoidable memories of his mother.

“If she were here, that’s where she would be,” he said, “standing with the people of the Garvaghy Road”.

While there has been no violence in Portadown, in Derry’s Waterside, two recent nights of disorder saw petrol bombs and masonry thrown at police. Officers described the crowd on the second night as mostly young people.

The renewed attempt to bring the Orange Order parade through Garvaghy Road risks leaving its mark on children on both sides. With some schools closed, Chris Nelson worries about parents having to explain to their kids what is happening.

“Children don’t forget things“, he said. “They absorb everything.”

He remembers how it felt waiting for his mother each night, and how that worry followed him through the summer holidays. He wants something different for the children growing up now.

“Children shouldn’t grow up knowing the difference between Catholic and Protestant.

“It isn’t something that should be brought into the mind of a child.”

Golfer Phil Mickelson checked himself into a facility earlier this year “seeking treatment for family trauma and addiction,” a representative for the six-time major championship winner said in a statement to news outlets on Wednesday.

Mickelson, 56, reportedly is no longer at the facility. No information about the specifics of his stay or details about his reasons for entering the program have been made available.

In February, Mickelson announced that he would miss the first two LIV Golf events of the year because he and his wife, Amy Mickelson, “need to be present for a family health matter.”

The only tournament the golfer known as Lefty has competed in this year was LIV Golf South Africa, where he finished at 7-under par and tied for 48th place, in March.

The following month, Mickelson announced he was withdrawing from the Masters and that he would “be out for an extended period of time as my family continues to navigate a personal health matter.”

In June, Golf Digest reported that a female member of the staff at the Farms Golf Club in Rancho Santa Fe had accused Mickelson of making “nonconsensual and inappropriate physical contact” with her months earlier.

Mickelson hired defamation attorney Tom Clare, who said video evidence contradicted the allegations.

In response to the Golf Digest report, a Mickelson spokesperson said in a statement: “Any misunderstanding has been cleared up. Phil continues to attend to a family health matter and is uncertain when he will be able to return to professional golf.”

A longtime gambling enthusiast, Mickelson admitted in a 2023 Instagram post that at some point he had “crossed the line of moderation and into addiction” but was “back on track to being the person I want to be.”

“After many years of receiving professional help, not gambling, and being in recovery from my addictions, I’m now able to sit still, be present in the moment and live each day with an inner calm and peace,” Mickelson wrote. “I still have a lot of cleaning up to do with those I love the most but I’m doing it slowly and as best I can.”

IT was written all over Katie Holmes’s face as she arrived at the Calvin Klein show at this month’s New York Fashion Week. 

The reason for the actress’s mega-watt smile? The man on her arm, artist Jason Bard Yarmosky, whom Holmes, 47, has been dating since the start of the summer – and helped her get over the trauma of her doomed marriage to Tom Cruise. 

Holmes and her new man, 39,  attended four major fashion week events together, each time carefully co-ordinating their outfits – which in Hollywood terms says far more about relationship status than you might think. 

Their romance has been the talk of New York society this summer, since they were first spotted in the Hamptons together in early July. 

Handsome Jason is something of a name himself, building 40,000 followers on Instagram where he shares his work. 

A source tells The Sun that he and Holmes have fallen for one another – fast – and that engagement may well be the next move. 

“They have become close very quickly,” says the source.

“Something about Jason’s sense of self and passion for what he does really pulled Katie into his orbit and they’ve become inseparable. They are very much in love.”

They reportedly first met at a Tribeca Festival dinner in June, where Yarmosky had been selected for the festival’s Artist Awards Programme which was presented by Chanel. 

They immediately bonded, says a source, over their “shared creativity”, with Holmes impressed by his work and his “quietly confident” energy. 

Yarmosky is certainly cool, becoming something of a power player on the New York art scene, recently creating work for a special exhibition at iconic department store Bergdorf Goodman. 

His website describes his paintings and drawings as centring around “themes of aging, time and memory” with a lot of his recent work inspired by his grandparents. 

They made their relationship Instagram official this month, and shared sizzling photos from a trip they took to Lake Como in Italy as a collab post, the ultimate new power couple move. 

Our source said that the trip was a huge step for them, and their electric connection was plain to see in the series of bikini photos as they enjoyed a boat trip on the lake.

Her friend Amy Astley, the former Vogue editor, commented that she was “glowing”. 

“For Katie to make this romance so public is very telling,” said one friend. 

“She has deliberately kept her romantic life under wraps for decades.” 

Indeed, Holmes’s only long term relationship since her high-profile divorce from Tom Cruise, after almost six years of marriage, was with Jamie Foxx. 

They were said to have dated for five years and in that time they were photographed together out in public only a handful of times. 

In 2019, there were two – very rare – public appearances, first at the Clive Davis and Recording Academy Pre-Grammy Gala, then at the Met Gala. 

A few months later, the romance was said to be over – and Holmes hasn’t found a great love again, until now, despite being linked fleetingly to chef Emilio Vitolo Jr. in 2020 and musician Bobby Wooten III in 2022.

“Things feel very different for Katie now,” said the source. 

“For the first time since splitting from Tom, she wants to show the world how in love she is.”

And she certainly is – so much so that rumours are circulating that the pair could even be heading for engagement. 

“It’s been a complete whirlwind,” said one Hollywood source.

“Katie’s friends and – most importantly – her parents Martin and Kathleen, all approve of the relationship. It is a big deal that they are together so publicly, it says a lot about where they are at.”

Holmes has been notoriously private about every aspect of her life since her extremely high profile marriage, and subsequent divorce from Tom Cruise – something which left her feeling “shaken” and “cautious about living in the spotlight” said sources at the time. 

It has been almost twenty years since the pair married in a lavish Italian wedding, at Bracciano’s 15th-century Odescalchi Castle – a celebration that reportedly cost them upwards of $3 million and included a performance by Andrea Bocelli. 

Their relationship had been a whirlwind, from meeting in 2004, to getting engaged in 2005 and having their only child Suri in April 2006, just seven months prior to the wedding, the pair became a Hollywood power couple – known as TomKat – in record time. 

She told W magazine, “I’ve found the man of my dreams”.

But their downfall was almost as dramatic as the couch-jumping which defined the start of the romance. 

Holmes filed for divorce from Tom Cruise in 2012 after nearly six years of marriage through a carefully planned, covert exit from the relationship. 

The Wall Street Journal reported at the time that the couple had been at loggerheads about Scientology, the controversial religion of which Cruise has been a prominent member for over 40 years, calling it a “beautiful religion”. 

He said in 2016, “It’s something that has helped me incredibly in my life.” 

He added, “It’s something, you know, without it, I wouldn’t be where I am. So it’s a beautiful religion. I’m incredibly proud.”

Reports revealed that Holmes and Cruise had disagreements over how the couple’s daughter, Suri, would be raised, with Holmes wanting to raise Suri away from Scientology. 

During a court case in 2013, Cruise confirmed that it was “one of the assertions” made by his ex-wife which led to their split. 

Following the split, Holmes was granted custody of Suri and they set up home in New York where they lived an exceptionally quiet life. 

Cruise was last photographed with his daughter, now 20 and attending Pennsylvania’s Carnegie Mellon University, in 2012 and she is said to have dropped his last name going instead by Suri Noelle, her mother’s middle name, in a recent Edinburgh Festival performance. 

“They don’t have any kind of relationship,” a source has said of Suri and Cruise. “She was raised by Katie. They are incredibly close.”

Prior to her marriage Holmes had been riding high in her career which started with hit teen show Dawson’s Creek, and had just starred in Batman Begins in 2005. 

Following their dramatic split, however, Holmes found herself somewhat “iced out of Hollywood”, says one industry insider. 

Two years ago Holmes admitted: “Do I have 20 scripts at my door, all with the green light? No. Would that make life easier? Yes.” 

Her most notable role in the post-Cruise years was as Jaqueline Kennedy in the TV miniseries The Kennedys, but the big blockbuster offers dried up. 

Two years ago, she made a splash on Broadway with director Kenny Leon’s revival of Our Town. 

Since then Holmes has been busy stepping back into the spotlight. 

She has written and directed new romcom Happy Hours, in which she also stars alongside her former Dawson’s Creek co-star – and ex-boyfriend – Joshua Jackson. 

She said earlier this year that “working with Josh again was a dream.”

Their friendship, which has been renewed in recent years after going no-contact while Holmes was married to Cruise, has been a huge part of Holmes’s “finding herself” again, our source tells us.

“With Josh, Katie can be herself,” they revealed. “He’s known her since they were kids. He’s encouraged her to find her voice artistically and also lean into being in the spotlight once again.”

And Holmes is certainly doing that, with more public appearances with her new man this year than we’ve seen since she was with Cruise, and a renewed spotlight on her life and career which she appears to be enjoying. 

“Katie is happy and confident in who she is in a way that felt impossible even ten years ago,” said our source. 

“Going through such a high profile divorce from someone who is so powerful, like Tom Cruise, was a life-shattering thing for her. It’s taken time but Katie feels free – and Jason is a big part of that.” 

As Holmes said two years ago: “I’m adamant about having a life and not letting this industry dictate decisions as simple as what I wear or as complicated as what I do.” 

She added, “You don’t want to be afraid of anything, right?” 

It looks like Katie Holmes is really living by those words.

TV host Jeff Brazier admits he has made too many mistakes bringing up sons Bobby and Freddy.

He became a single dad after his ex, Big Brother star Jade Goody, died from cervical cancer in 2009 aged just 27.

Jeff — who has since had years of therapy — believes that if model Bobby, 23, and Race Across The World star Freddy, 21, had been raised by the man he is today, they may have escaped some of the trauma, turmoil and family fallouts.

He told the Sun on Sunday: “You always look back with hindsight and feel like, ‘If only I was the version of myself I am today 20 years ago, how much of a better experience of me they would have had’.

“Maybe that might have eliminated some of the bumps in the road we’ve had . . .  you look at the things you could have done better.”

Those “bumps” have at times proved particularly painful for Freddy, with much of the family tension centred around his close bond with his maternal grandmother Jackiey Budden, 69.

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Jeff has always considered Jade’s mum to be a bad influence on the boys.

And Freddy, who has been to rehab, been sectioned and suffered manic episodes, has previously claimed Jackiey got him “hooked” on cannabis.

Things got so bad that last year, a concerned Jeff started legal proceedings in a bid to keep Jackiey away from his son.

Yet despite their clashes, Jeff and Freddy have always found their way back to each other — most recently in March following the arrival of Freddy’s daughter Isla with his on-off girlfriend Holly Swinburn.

Jeff, 47, says: “Thanks to all the mistakes and all the lessons and the learnings along the way, I get to love Isla with a sense of confidence.

“The strength of connection you can have with a grandchild is really special.

“With Isla, it just feels ­natural, effortless and easy, and there’s no ­complications around it.”

Jeff can often be seen on This Morning, has worked with The One Show and TNT Sports and now fronts the Let’s Save Water campaign, urging families to make small changes to help tackle Britain’s shortage after the hot summer.

But the TV star admits he has struggled since his sons moved out of the family home in Essex.

“When they left, I went through nine months of what felt like ­absolute grief,” he admits.

“It’s not just the absence of your children. It’s more the grieving of the role that you played, that you got really comfortable playing.

“It felt like a slow relinquishing of control and responsibility, to the point where you feel redundant.

“Life is a lot quieter right now — the peace can be deafening — but there’s also part of you that’s, like, ‘Shouldn’t I be doing something for someone somewhere?’ ”

Jeff’s home is also quieter following the end of his seven-year ­marriage to PR executive Kate Dwyer last year.

Yet Jeff, who first found fame on reality show Shipwrecked in 2001, is learning to embrace this new chapter and finally put himself first.

He is also discovering how to play again so that he can be the best grandfather possible.

It was Freddy, who suffers from ADHD, who first told him he needed to loosen up, while they filmed Celebrity Race Across The World in 2024.

Jeff, who spent much of his ­childhood in foster care, said: “He ­basically hit the nail on the head.

“As a child, I probably didn’t play that much, or feel safe to play. I’m trying to undo that.”

In a bid to become more playful, Jeff has even signed up to wrestle strangers after discovering the ­unusual kind of therapy at a ­spiritual festival.

“The more you do it, the more you free something up and heal something,” he says.

“Obviously, no one’s allowed to hurt anyone. But to go and enjoy retreats like that, you’re basically taking your inner child with you.

“That’s where I hope I will be in ten years — running a retreat on a renovated farm in the countryside.

“I would still be exercising and showing up for people, and I’d be looking after numerous grand- children and feel all the love.”

Could that future also include finding love again?

“I hope so,” he says. “Yeah, I believe that will happen to me.”