It isn’t often that it happens, but I saw a headline in a newspaper during the week that lifted my spirits. In the context of an otherwise heart-rending story, it was a simple thing that showed that there are people out there who have not been infected with the virus of recrimination – the virus of vengeance – that has become the new orthodoxy in Ireland.

The background could hardly be sadder or more tragic. In one of the worst accidents of the year, three young Dublin lads Aston Ryan (21), Anthony Murphy (18) and Peter O’Rourke (18) – the latter duo celebrating the fact that they had just finished their Leaving Certificate exams – were killed when the car in which they were passengers hit a concrete lamp post. The fatal accident occurred at the Sutton Park junction on the coast road to Howth – one of the most beautiful spots in Dublin – at 3.50 am, as the friends were on the way home from a party. The driver of the car, Keith Bolger (20) survived the accident.

The circumstances of the smash-up are unclear. The resulting scene, however, was straight out of the tastelessly graphic road safety ads which have been running over the past few months on television here, the car a mangled wreck and three out of five occupants mortally injured. Whatever the cause, there is a terrible lesson for anyone who gets behind the wheel of a car, in the letter, written by Keith Bolger to his deceased friend, which was read out at the removal of the body of Aston Ryan.

“It’s been a few days since the crash,” the letter says, “and I still can’t believe what’s happened. It still feels like a nightmare. I don’t know why I survived. I still feel guilty that I did.”

And he continues...

“I wish I could trade places with you. There won’t be a day that goes by, that I won’t be thinking of you. I’ll see you again in heaven some day. Rest in peace. Love, Keith.”

It is a desperately poignant note, that affirms the ordinary humanity of the individual who was at the root of – and may well have been responsible for – a horrific accident. The human cost of that accident was devastating. But that doesn’t make him less than human.

Often in circumstances like this, where death and grief are involved, those closest to the victims are hard and unforgiving. They want retribution.

This is what tends to be the norm in Ireland now, even where accidents are concerned. Irish society has changed. When something goes wrong, there is an immediate clamour for punishment. Who is responsible for this? Find them! Try them! Flog them!

Fuelled by self-righteous media coverage, where an obscene delight is taken in naming the guilty parties, a lynch mob mentality takes over. The demand is that people should be dragged before the courts. If they are seen to be kicking and screaming on the way in, all the better – the pictures will look good on the 9 o’clock news, or on the front pages in the morning. Longer sentences are demanded. Bean counters talk about the cost: this is what has us paying such high insurance premiums, they squeal. It is verboten, it seems, to think in terms of decency or leniency or empathy. We have to make an example of them. We have to make an example of everyone. Put ’em in jail and throw away the key...

Which is why the headline in the Evening Herald made such an impression. “We Don’t Blame The Driver Of Death Car”, it said. It was the most unlikely headline of the year so far by some distance. The accompanying front page report quoted Linda Ryan, the mother of one of the victims. What she had to say, it seemed to me, represented exactly the kind of generous and compassionate response to which we all might aspire, were we to be plunged into tragic and terrible circumstances like this.

“Even though I could not bear to look at any of the glass or damage at the scene,” she was quoted as saying, “I am still not angry with Keith. It is important that he knows that, because we want him to be able to get on with his life. I know he is in a lot of pain, but he needs to know he has to get over this.”

These are the words of a mother who has just lost a son she deeply loved. These are the words of a person whose life will never be the same again. These are the words of an individual who thinks first not of herself – but of someone else who is also suffering. These are the words of woman of enormous courage and decency.

I thought of writing a letter to Linda to express my condolences and to convey the admiration that I feel for her. Then I thought no, that it would be better to write about it here. This is the kind of voice that needs to be heard more widely and more often. If I could help to amplify that voice, it would be a good thing. It would be appropriate, I felt, to express this is a public way.

In the static that engulfs us day in day out via the media, there is so much anger and bile. There is so little tenderness and love. The words of Linda Ryan make such a heartening, wonderful and refreshing contrast to all of that. I want to thank her for going against the grain, in a way that I hope will inspire others. I want to thank her for showing, to anyone who read her words, that it is possible to reach out beyond the anger and the grief and to say and do something fundamentally caring and good. I want to thank her for the fresh heart that she has given to me – who is at a distance from the awful events into which she was helplessly plunged – and hopefully, to Keith Bolger, who needs fresh heart now more than most of us could ever imagine.

Ireland could do with more people like her.