As the series of overlapping inquiries into alleged Garda and Department of Justice misbehaviour gets under way, it’s worth noting that much of what is now under scrutiny was foreshadowed years ago by Judge Frederick Morris in his reports on police malpractice in Donegal.

Judge Morris was appointed in March 2002 to examine the Garda investigation of the death of cattle dealer Richie Barron in Raphoe in 1997. His focus was to widen as evidence mounted.

In 2010, the Irish Academic Press published The Blue Wall of Silence: The Morris Tribunal and Police Accountability in Ireland, by Vicky Conway. It will ring loud bells with anyone following the unnerving semi-farcical revelations of recent weeks.

Morris’s findings included: that gardaí had been involved in planting explosives in order to orchestrate bomb finds; that senior officers had negligently failed to follow procedures, so as to prevent exposure of corruption; that gardai had corrupted witness statements; that officers had made threatening “extortionate” phone calls to the home of a potential suspect; that a garda whose handling of an informant had been challenged by a colleague pulled out a gun and threatened the other officer; that garda harassment of citizens was commonplace; that many gardaí had perjured themselves in their evidence.

Morris declared that there was no reason to believe these practices were confined to Donegal: “Of the gardai serving in Donegal it cannot be said that they are unrepresentative or an aberration from the generality. All of them were trained as gardai and served under a uniform structure of administration and discipline that is standardised.”

The report had next to no effect. One garda was sacked, a couple resigned. The “many” perjurers were not pursued.

Ms. Conway suggests one likely factor was “the manner in which the Tribunal proceedings and reports were presented to the public.” She cites the spin of Garda chiefs, politicians and the media: none faced up to “the full seriousness and the broader implications.”

She notes the deft use of the “rotten apple” theory. Now as then, virtually every expression of concern about the various malpractices brought to light is prefaced by statements that the scandalous behaviour of a tiny handful of gardai mustn’t be allowed to besmirch the reputation of a fine body of public servants.

The Morris Report led to the establishment of the Garda Inspectorate, the Garda Síochána Ombudsman Commission (GSOC) and the Garda Professional Standards Unit (GPSU). Every one of these institutions is now hopelessly entangled in the Callinan/Shatter affair.

Measures were introduced to provide “a whistleblowers’ charter”. We know how that one worked out.

Vicky Conway suggests that one crucial question not faced up to was the relationship between the top Garda leadership and the Department of Justice.

The most rational response to the current cluster of investigations is to murmur “Here we go again”, and expect no change.

Away back in 1993, Hot Press carried what is still the only detailed account to be published of a garda raid on the Point Inn in Inishowen which led to the false imprisonment of the owner, Frank Shortt.

Shortt was framed by gardai for allegedly allowing drugs be sold on his premises. He spent 27 months in Mountjoy, convicted on the basis of planted evidence, suppressed evidence and perjured evidence. His pub was torched while he was inside. He was eventually awarded €2.2 million compensation.

He has since told me that the Hot Press report was of great comfort to him in Mountjoy.

The biggest force of gardai ever assembled in Donegal, tooled up like robocops, had set up roadblocks, then stormed the Point as if expecting armed resistance and launched a mass assault with batons, fists and boots on scores of young people on a night out. None has had any redress. Frank Shortt was beaten when he tried to intervene. No-one was charged with buying or selling drugs. At the time, media and political hysteria about ecstasy was at its height.

The truth only came to light when the estranged wife of one of the gardai who had led the raid, Detective Noel McMahon, came forward with memos he had written at the time and testified that she had heard him conspire with another officer to frame Shortt.

One senior garda resigned, McMahon was dismissed. And that for practical purposes was that.

Neither was any action taken on foot of evidence from Damien McDaid to Morris that he had been visited in Limerick prison, where he was serving time on an unrelated matter, by two gardai from the original team sent up from Dublin to get to the bottom of the Donegal allegations and that they promised to spring him if he would provide perjured evidence against a man they were fitting up for the Barron killing. The burden of McDaid’s evidence was, then, that members of the garda anti-corruption team had tried to commission perjury to cover the corruption up. No action resulted.

All this is well-known to top gardai, the Department of Justice and many politicians from the period now ensconced on front benches and pledging to follow the various current inquiries through and enforce the conclusions, however unpalatable. The form-book suggests they are chancers.

It’s not a few gardai and government officials who are tainted beyond redemption. The entire system of policing and justice is corrupt.

Against this background, only a fool would have respect for the law.