DJ Carey, a name once synonymous with sporting glory in Ireland, stood in a Dublin courtroom, his face betraying no emotion. The celebrated hurler, a legend who captivated a nation with his skill and athleticism, was facing the consequences of a devastating deception. He had pleaded guilty to defrauding friends and acquaintances out of significant sums of money, all under the false pretense of battling cancer.
The elaborate scheme unfolded with chilling audacity. Carey presented a carefully constructed narrative of illness, soliciting funds for treatment and loans. Images circulated – disturbing depictions of him seemingly in a hospital bed, an iPhone cable dramatically positioned as a lifeline. These images, intended to evoke sympathy, instead sparked outrage as the truth began to emerge.
Businessman Denis O’Brien, a friend of Carey’s, was among those taken in by the ruse, loaning over 125,000 euros. He later testified that Carey had “duped” him, even providing a car and accommodation while claiming to need funds for cancer care. The betrayal felt particularly acute, as O’Brien had sought proof of treatment, receiving fabricated letters purportedly from a renowned medical center in Seattle – a center that later confirmed having no record of Carey.
The lies extended beyond financial gain, weaving a web of fabricated achievements. Carey claimed a victory in a US handball tournament, falsely asserting that this elite athlete status would qualify him for government assistance with medical bills. This audacious claim, like so many others, was designed to maintain the illusion and continue extracting money from those who believed in him.
Thomas Butler, a friend from both golf and GAA, lost nearly 17,000 euros, money taken from his pension lump sum. The impact was “gut-wrenching,” he stated, especially given his own family’s experience with cancer. Butler, a volunteer driver for the Irish Cancer Society, was horrified to discover Carey exploiting the very cause he dedicated his time to.
The deceit cut deeply, not just financially, but emotionally. Butler spoke of the shame he felt, questioning his own judgment and the impact on his children, who had never known such generosity from their father. He felt exploited, a victim of Carey’s calculated manipulation.
Another friend, Thomas Brennan, a professional involved in oncology drug development, transferred a total of 120,000 euros, falling prey to Carey’s persuasive lies. The scale of the fraud was becoming increasingly apparent, revealing a pattern of systematic deception targeting those who trusted and admired him.
In court, Judge Martin Nolan acknowledged that fraudsters often prey on greed, but in Carey’s case, he had exploited the inherent goodness of people. He recognized Carey’s past achievements as a “formidable sportsman,” one of the most celebrated hurlers in history, but emphasized the profound harm he had inflicted on those who simply wanted to help someone in need.
The judge acknowledged that Carey had already faced significant “public odium and ridicule” and that his reputation would likely never recover. He sentenced Carey to five and a half years in prison, a stark fall from grace for a man once revered as a national hero. The case serves as a chilling reminder of the devastating consequences of betrayal and the enduring pain caused by those who exploit the kindness of others.
