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Word was quickly spreading of a huge fire engulfing the Liberties. It was 10pm on June 18th, , and the two young men decided to cross the city to take a look. Earlier, at 4. At 8pm, the alarm was raised, according to a report in The Irish Times. The fire spread quickly. As the flames reached the wooden casks holding the liquor, they burst open, sending a burning river of whiskey flowing through the streets.

By the time William and John set out for the blaze, the flow measured 2ft wide, 6 inches deep and stretched more than m down one side of Mill Street. Livestock was common in the city at the time and the squeals of fleeing pigs added to the chaos as the tenements rapidly emptied of residents.

And even these numbers do not represent the entire of the persons put hors de combat by the drink. In all, 13 people are understood to have died as a result of the fire. He drank a great deal. What I drank was out of a jug. Two men, strangers, helped me to bring William part of the way home as far as Meath Street.

We then met some other men, neighbours, who helped to bring him the rest of the way. He improved slightly under treatment, even regaining consciousness at one point, but died on Sunday night as a result of alcohol poisoning. Hundreds of police officers, soldiers and firefighters, led by the first chief of Dublin Fire Brigade , Capt James Robert Ingram , attended the scene within 15 minutes of the alarm being raised.

However, the damage to the Liberties was extensive. Tightly-packed tenement buildings on Mill Street, Ardee Street, Chamber Street and Cork Street were destroyed, along with nearby businesses, displacing many families. The dog dashed madly about the house, knocking over furniture and attacking the homeowner. But on inquiry I was happy to learn that no life was lost during the great conflagration.

What can you find? Let us know irishtimes. For more information on subscribing to the archive, click here. The night a river of whiskey ran through the streets of Dublin The Chamber Street fire claimed many victims - each died from alcohol poisoning Wed, Aug 3, , Dean Ruxton. Victims: Interactive map. English Soccer. Capture the taste of Christmas in these cocktail and dessert recipes.


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Wearable tech: 'It has helped by putting structure on going to bed'. Need a more efficient business? Take the Productivity Challenge. Commenting on The Irish Times has changed. To comment you must now be an Irish Times subscriber. Bosch turned and looked down into the grave. That was fifteen years ago.

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From him. Bosch saw members of the family gathered by a couple of stretch limos in the parking lane. It looked like two generations of children. He carried it into the bungalow on Orange Grove, where John Jack and Margaret Thompson had lived for more than fifty years. He put it on the dining room table, where there were other plates and trays of food.

The house was crowded. Bosch said hellos and shook a few hands as he pushed his way through the knots of people, looking for Margaret. He found her in the kitchen, oven mitts on and getting a hot pan out of the oven. Keeping busy. Down the hall, on the left. Bosch went into the dining room and used the knife she had given him to cut the pie into eight slices. He had been there before.

Years earlier, when they worked cases together, after a long shift Bosch would often end up at the Thompson house for a late meal prepared by Margaret and a strategy session with John Jack. Sometimes Bosch would take the couch in the home office and sleep a few hours before getting back to work on the case. He even kept spare clothes in the office closet. Margaret always left a fresh towel for him in the guest bathroom. The door was closed and for some reason he knocked, even though he knew no one should be in there.

He opened the door and entered a small, cluttered office with shelves on two walls and a desk pushed up against a third under a window. The couch was still there, across from the window. Sitting on a green blotter on the desk was a thick blue plastic binder with three inches of documents inside. Ballard studied what she could see of the remains with an unflinching eye. The smell of kerosene mixed with burned flesh was overpowering this close, but she stood her ground. She was in charge of the scene until the fire experts arrived.

The nylon tent had melted and collapsed on the victim. It tightly shrouded the body in places where the fire had not completely burned through. The body seemed to be in repose and she wondered how he could have slept through it. She also knew that toxicity tests would determine his alcohol and drug levels. Maybe he never felt a thing.

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Ballard knew it would not be her case but she pulled out her phone and took photos of the body and the scene, including close-ups of the overturned camping heater, the presumed source of the blaze. She then opened the temperature app on the phone and noted that the current temperature listed for Hollywood was 52 degrees. She stepped back and looked around.

It was a. They stared both wide-eyed and addled as the investigation into the death of one of their own proceeded. Stan Dvorek, the patrol sergeant who had called her out, stepped over. He had worked the late-show shift longer than anybody at Hollywood Division—more than ten years. Somebody driving by saw the flames and called it in as a fire.

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Two fire trucks were still on scene, having made the journey just three blocks down from Station 27 to douse the tent fire. The crews were standing by to be questioned. Ballard walked away, ending the debate. Dvorek might be the patrol supervisor, but Ballard was in charge of the crime scene.

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Until it was determined that the fatal fire was an accident, she would treat it as a crime scene. She walked over to the waiting firefighters and asked which of the two crews were first on scene. She then asked the six firefighters assigned to the first truck what they saw. The information she received from them was thin. The tent fire had almost burned itself out by the time the fire-rescue team arrived. Nobody saw anyone around the blaze or nearby in the park.

No witnesses, no suspects. A fire extinguisher from the truck had been used to douse the remaining flames, and the victim was pronounced dead and therefore not transported to a hospital. From there Ballard took a walk up and down the block, looking for cameras. On the west side of Cole was a line of one-story warehouses inhabited by prop houses and equipment-rental houses catering to the film and television industry. Ballard saw a few cameras but suspected that they were either dummies or set at angles that would not be helpful to the investigation. When she got back to the scene, she saw Dvorek conferring with two of his patrol officers.

Ballard recognized them from the morning-watch roll call at Hollywood Division. You can probably clear half your guys and yourself.