Peter Mulryan

That's where he lived.

That's where his heating came from, the transmitter.

No one was allowed into Eamon's room.

One day, when Eamon Cook was out, Neil was able to sneak in and take photos of Cook's bedroom, which looks, well, dangerous.

It was quite a smelly room.

There was a bed in the corner, definitely a bed that hadn't seen sheets or duvets changed in an awful long time.

Just kind of mouldy,

It had electric wires on the window to prevent entrance, like an electric fence running across the window, which I have pictures of here.

Eamon Cook didn't just electrify the windows.

He did the same to the metal doors.

It made his home on the Radio Dublin studios a bit of a fortress, protected from the authorities.

The window would have been wired up to mains.

That's dangerous.

Well, it's dangerous for someone trying to get through the window.

Cook weaponized electricity.

Twenty years after his first wife, Helena, died from touching a kettle in their home, the same danger now existed in Cook's new intercore residence.

I remember one day making a cup of tea and I went to the kitchen downstairs behind the studio and I got an electric shock just from putting on the kettle, just from touching the area near the kettle in the kitchen.

The 1980s were going to be a decade where Eamon Cook continued to defy the authorities, both on air at Radio Dublin and in the shadows as a serial child abuser.

But his control was under threat, and as some of his victims grew into young adults, they began to fight back.

I'm Peter Mulrhyne.