Shot in the Back

How Cowardly IRA Common Criminal killers murdered UDR man Bobby Stott

Robert (Bobby) Stott

November 6th , 1954 – November 25th , 1975

Bobby Stott was a friend to everyone he met and everyone he met was his friend, except for those who shot him in the back and stomped on his face as he lay dying.

He was born the fifth child of a family of nine children in the gate lodge of Riverview Park in Londonderry on November 6th, 1954. The house they shared with their parents was small, but it came with the job his father held as caretaker of some local government offices. Like many other Protestant families at the time, the Stotts were not included among the privileged classes but had to work hard for anything they had and, like those other families, it was not a lot.

His sister, Margaret, recalls those days which, although hard, were happy times as no-one knew any better, but, simply struggled through on a day-to-day basis. When he was only 10 years old Bobby's mother died and, along with the heartache, the family's situation became even more difficult.

"Our mother worked as a cleaner in the offices where our father was caretaker and her wages were also vital for our keep and keeping food on the table," explained Margaret. "Our eldest brother suffered from rheumatoid arthritis and was unable to work and, with so many children in the family, life was already difficult and looked as though it was going to get worse." The final solution was that Margaret herself would leave school and take over the mother's role as cleaner and caretaker to the rest of the family and, at 15 years of age, she became an adult and took on all the responsibilities of her new position.

Bobby was attending Carlisle Road Primary School when his mother died and, like all of his brothers and sisters, he too was badly affected by her death, a loss that was to stay with him until he too left this life to be with her.

After primary school he moved to Templemore Intermediate School where he made lots of new friends and became a popular pupil who did well in his education.

In his teenage years the family moved to an apartment in Londonderry's Guildhall where his father had obtained the position of caretaker and, for the first time in their lives, they had a bathroom, central heating and more space to live than they ever had before. Compared to what they had just left, this was total luxury and they began to enjoy their new environment with all the amenities - but this didn't last long.

A few years after their move, the IRA planted a bomb inside the building and their apartment, along with offices and the council chamber, was blown up. From there Bobby and his family moved to Fountain Street and lived in the residential part of a former public house and again took a retrograde step as far as accommodation was concerned as there was no central heating and the facilities were quite basic. However, the family accepted their circumstances and, with each other for support, made the best of the situation.

"I remember we each had our own jobs to do in the house and Bobby's was to wash the backyard and step every day or polish the linoleum, and he did this without complaint on most occasions," said Margaret. "He was very helpful and was always concerned for the rest of us."

Fountain Street was, and still is, a loyalist enclave on the West Bank of the city and an area not known for being affluent but one which, although filled with decent, hard-working people was still one of the poorer areas of the city and which, in today's definitions, would have been described as a Protestant ghetto. No-one in the area had more than basic amenities and very few had a bathroom or hot running water. Many families had to squeeze into a two-up, two-down terrace house and, in more than a few instances, had extended family sharing the house.

Having been born on this side of the River Foyle the family, and Bobby in particular, preferred to accept their new abode rather than move to the Waterside where they could have had a better type of home. Bobby was a quiet individual, always a diplomat, someone who fought a constant battle with his weight. Among his many friends he was known as "the fat man", not so much as an insult but as a term of endearment as he had many of the qualities normally associated with those people deemed overweight. Bobby was jolly and always had a ready smile for his friends and for any stranger he met. "He was the peacemaker in any troubled situation and was always a sucker for a sad story, often doing everything he could to alleviate any problem he heard about," recalled Margaret. "Above all else, Bobby was a unionist and a staunch Presbyterian. He was a long-term member of the Young Unionists movement but received no special privileges for doing so. We still lived from hand to mouth in a house that by today's standards would have been condemned."

As soon as he could, Bobby left school and got a job in a local shirt factory doing all sorts of jobs from cutting shirts to keeping the girls supplied with materials, "Every week he handed his full wage packet into the house to help feed the rest of the family and, in particular, those coming after him," said Margaret.

In the 1960s the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association began holding marches in Northern Ireland seeking "civil rights for Catholics". In Londonderry the Deny Housing Action Committee held a number of protests to highlight the plight of Roman Catholics whom they claimed were living in bad housing conditions.

No approaches were ever made to the people of The Fountain to ask them about their appalling housing conditions or for them to join any protests or marches appealing for better housing conditions. Instead, they were promoted as the privileged section of the community who had it all as opposed to the rest who were persecuted and deprived by the British community.

While the civil rights movement paraded through the city on October 5, 1968, demanding better conditions for one section of the community, the Protestant families in The Fountain still had to make do with outside toilets, overcrowding, damp houses and no running hot water. During the months following the march, The Fountain was attacked and petrol-bombed on a regular basis by those who thought that the working class, impoverished residents of the area were responsible for their conditions.

Through it all Bobby and many like him continued to work for their living and never demanded, as much as they would have liked it, any handouts by the government. Their ethos was that they should work for anything they needed and that, when it was possible and funds were available, their lot in life would be improved. Some years after their move to The Fountain, that situation did arise and a redevelopment programme was announced for the area. After the years of making do with living in half a house, the family were allocated a new house in the area. This was a major improvement, but still the financial hardship remained with them and still they carried on with no privileges whatsoever and continued to work for their living which, although improved by accommodation, was not one of affluence.

As his wages improved, Bobby was able, for the first time in his life, to buy a new suit of which he was justifiably proud and, whenever the occasion arose, when it could be worn, Bobby wore it with pride. It was around the same time that the Ulster Defence Regiment came into existence and, along with other members of his family, he joined up.

Margaret said: "It was not for the money, nor to suppress the Roman Catholic population, but as a form of service to our country, and Bobby was proud of his country and his allegiance. As our father was ex-service himself, I suppose it was the most natural thing for us to do and follow his example."

The extra money was a help to Bobby and the family, who by this time had met their future partners, got married and were moving from the family home, but still he wanted to remain in the area in which he was born and where he had grown up. He continued to work at the factory where he had made many friends among his colleagues of both religions and still remained an active member of the Young Unionists.

There were times, particularly after yet another murder of a colleague in the UDR, when the family would touch on the possibility of one of them being attacked, "He used to say to us that if we were ever in a situation where the IRA tried to kidnap us that we were to run as they would kill us anyway and that we shouldn't allow ourselves to be taken easily," said Margaret. That was not the way it happened for Bobby. His killers couldn't face him, but lay in ambush to murder him. A week before he died, the girls in the factory where he worked had bought him a cigarette lighter and within days Bobby had lost it. He questioned every member of the family as to its whereabouts, but it could not be found and he was devastated by its loss.

On Tuesday, November 25,1975, he left his work and walked through a drizzle to go home and get ready for plans he had made for that night. It was less than half-a-mile to his house and, to get to it, he had to walk through one of the gateways in the famous city walls to get into the estate. It was dark and, at that time of the evening, most people were already home and having their meal and that, along with the drizzle, kept most people off the street.

Bobby walked as he always did, with his hands in the pockets of whatever coat he was wearing and his head slightly bent and looking at the ground. He would have been in a hurry to get indoors and would not have been paying particular attention to what was going on around him. He reached The Fountain and walked along the path that led to his new home, passing the other houses in the terraced row where he lived. Just as he reached the steps that led to his door, at least two gunmen came out of the shadows and shot him 10 times in the back. He fell just feet from security.

After they had shot him, one of them stomped on the side of his face before they made off into the shadows from where they had come. It was while he lay dying on the street that his eldest brother found him, but because of his disability he couldn't lift him off the ground, Bobby was taken to Altnagelvin Hospital where he died from his wounds with many friends and family around him.

Margaret said: "I remember when we were leaving the house on the day of his funeral, our father called us all together and said to us, 'Hold your heads up high when we walk out and don't let them see that they have hurt us. I would rather have a son who was murdered than have a son who is a murderer'." He was buried with full military honours following a service in his beloved First Derry Presbyterian Church and, some months later, the Young Unionists presented a lectern to the church in his memory.

"Some years later when we were looking through a box which contained mementos of our mother we came across Bobby's cigarette lighter," said Margaret, "so he must have been looking in it himself a few days before he died and dropped the lighter into it himself."

"Lest ye Forget"

News Letter 12 th November 2005