Secret Mass Grave Holds Hundreds of Irish Babies

Unearthing the Past: The Search for Lost Lives in Tuam

For decades, the story of St. Mary’s children's home in Tuam, County Galway, remained hidden beneath layers of silence and secrecy. No burial records, no headstones, and no memorials marked the fate of hundreds of babies who died there between 1925 and 1961. It wasn’t until 2014 that an amateur historian uncovered evidence of a mass grave, potentially buried in a former sewage tank, changing the course of history for those affected by the institution.

Now, investigators have begun an excavation at a patch of grass next to a children’s playground on a housing estate in Tuam. This two-year project will focus on the site where St. Mary’s once stood—a church-run institution that housed thousands of women and children over its 36 years of operation. Many of the women had become pregnant outside of marriage and were shunned by their families, often separated from their children after giving birth.

According to death records, Patrick Derrane was the first baby to die at St. Mary’s in 1915, while Mary Carty was the last in 1960. Between these dates, 794 other babies and young children are known to have died there. Their remains are believed to be buried in what former Irish Prime Minister Enda Kenny called a “chamber of horrors.”

A Life Spent in Silence

PJ Haverty spent his first six years in the home he describes as a prison, but considers himself one of the lucky ones. He remembers how the “home children” were treated at school—separated from others, allowed to arrive and leave late, and even kept away during breaks. “We were dirt from the street,” he said. The stigma followed him throughout his life, even after finding a foster home and eventually reconnecting with his birth mother.

The home, run by the Bon Secours Sisters, cast a long shadow over many in Tuam for years. It wasn’t until Catherine Corliss, an amateur historian, began digging into her family’s past that the truth started to come to light.

Discovering the Mass Grave

Catherine took a local history course in 2005, which led her to investigate St. Mary’s and the “home children.” Her initial inquiries met with resistance, as no records were available. But a breakthrough came when she spoke to a cemetery caretaker who directed her to the site of the former home.

At the edge of a children’s playground, there was a square of lawn with a grotto. The caretaker told her about a group of boys who had found bones in the area in the 1970s. When Catherine compared old maps, she noticed something strange: one map from 1929 labeled the area as a “sewage tank,” while another from the 1970s noted it as a “burial ground.” This discrepancy raised her suspicions.

After receiving a list of 796 children who died at St. Mary’s, Catherine realized that none of them were buried in local cemeteries. Without further evidence, she could not confirm her theory, but her findings eventually sparked international attention in 2014.

A Witness’s Story

Mary Moriarty, who lived near the site in the 1970s, shared a chilling account of what she saw. She recalled a child showing her some shrubbery where he had found a skull. When she investigated, she fell into a hole and discovered “little bundles” wrapped in blackened cloths, packed in rows up to the ceiling. “Hundreds,” she said. Later, when her son was born, she saw similar bundles brought to her by nuns—confirming that what she had seen were indeed babies.

Confirming the Truth

In 2017, an Irish government investigation confirmed Catherine’s findings, revealing “significant quantities of human remains” in a test excavation. The remains were not from the famine, and the age range suggested they were infants and young children.

Anna Corrigan, who discovered her mother had given birth to two sons in the home, became a powerful voice for those seeking answers. She set up the Tuam Babies Family Group, ensuring that the children would not be forgotten.

The Excavation Begins

The current excavation is expected to take two years. Daniel MacSweeney, the head of the operation, described the challenge as “a world-first.” The remains are likely mixed together, and the bones of infants are extremely small—only the size of an adult’s finger. “They’re absolutely tiny,” he said, emphasizing the need for careful recovery to maximize the chance of identification.

For people like Anna, the search for closure continues. Each day brings hope for answers, for the names of lost siblings, uncles, and cousins. As the excavation moves forward, the voices of the past begin to rise again, demanding recognition and remembrance.