His True Colors

Ancient nautical term, to show your colors. It refers to the flag, the colors that a ship must display to indicate its country of registry. Way back in the day, a clever captain would run up the enemy's flag, using false colors as a ruse to do some military maneuver. Once ready to engage in battle, however, said captain was required to run up his true colors, the flag of his nation, and fight proudly.

Even today, a ship has to wear its colors when entering a port, to be clearly marked as friend or foe. Imagine the alarm in Cobh Harbour, then, when the Sea Mist staggered in, plagued with engine trouble while crossing the wide Atlantic. The former trawler came in all naked, no flag of registry, and the Irish Naval Service, Customs, and a few gardai were on that ship in no time.

If Gordon Richards, at the helm, was not suffering from a bad back, he might have been thinking more clearly and run up the Orange, White and Green. For want of a nail, the battle was lost, and for want of a flag, Irish customs officers searched the ship from stem to stern and weren't they shocked to find 599 kilograms of cocaine hidden therein. Too late now, but Mr. Richards has surely learned that he should lift heavy weights with his legs, and not bend his back. One would presume, of course, that his back pain was tied in with the massive quantity of drugs. Someone had to load the boat, after all.

Naturally, the captain and all his crew were promptly arrested. In court, the crew were let off, and the captain was left to face the legal music. Mr. Richards, or John Ewart as he is more properly called, is sitting in Arbour Hill prison right now, and will enjoy the historic significance of the jail until June of 2009. He was good enough to inform the authorities that he was working for Brian Wright, the biggest drug trafficker in England. From there, Irish law enforcement officials worked with their colleagues in America and Britain, and together they put a significant kink in the drug pipeline following the arrest of sixteen gang members.

Eventually, the top of the ladder was reached and Brian "The Milkman" Wright was found guilty in Woolwich Crown Court yesterday. Having worked hard to achieve greatness during the first thirty years of his life, he will now enjoy the next thirty behind bars. Not exactly as plush as his box at the Royal Ascot, that cell at Belmarsh Prison, and twenty-two hours a day of solitude is a far remove from the days of rubbing shoulders with the elite of the horse racing circuit. Given his poor health, it's been suggested that Brian will most likely die in prison and never see freedom again. Odd, but the judge didn't seem to have an ounce of pity for him.