Relatives of Kingsmill massacre victims call for culprits to be named
Those allegedly responsible for the IRA's Kingsmill massacre four decades ago should be named, a grieving relative said.
Bea Worton's son Kenneth was one of 10 innocent Protestant workmen killed after their minibus was stopped by republican gunmen.
They were lined up outside and shot dead. Another survived.
Today we remember the 10 men brutally slaughtered by the cowardly IRA at Kingsmill, those murdered were ordinary, innocent civilians, they were simply travelling to do a day's work. No stone should be left unturned until those responsible are brought to justice. pic.twitter.com/dKIied4ECF
-- Cllr Darryl Wilson (@DarrylUUP) January 5, 2018
Families of the dead gathered at a memorial on the narrow country road near Newry in Co Armagh where the killings took place 42 years ago for a commemoration service.
Ms Worton said: "I want to see them all named.
"Just to see who we have been mixing with all these years."
Her son was 24 when he died.
"We always lived with our neighbours, I went to a mixed school, I am 90 and we got on well.
"Kenneth would have mixed with anybody, in fact his best pals were all Catholics.
"He loved everybody."
The textile factory workers were ambushed as they travelled along the Whitecross to Bessbrook road on January 5 1976, one of the darkest years of the Troubles, allegedly in reprisal for earlier loyalist killings.
A new inquest is being held into the deaths.
Mr Worton's brother Colin said: "We hope that there will be justice and if it is not in this life then it will be in the next life, so if they escape the judgment here they cannot escape when the final days come."
The families and victims' campaigners gathered at the scene on the brow of a hill where a memorial lists the names of those who died, gold lettering against a polished black backdrop.
They laid wreaths at the spot and said prayers.
Racquel Brush, Kenneth Worton's daughter, was only three when he died and has no real memories of him.
She said she felt angry.
"When you think of all of the things that you have missed out on, the people that carried it out just got left and got on with their lives whereas for us you were stood in time.
"He did not see us growing up, he did not see us getting married."
May Quinn's brother Bobby Walker, 46, was driving the minibus.
She said: "It is just the same today as it was 43 years ago."
Mr Walker always sounded the horn at his wife as he drove past his house, including on the day he died.
Ms Quinn said: "And that was the last she knew of him."
