Not destroyed in any dramatic sense, not built over or quarried away in documented fashion, simply no longer identifiable. The site at An Lóthar was noted as containing a cromlech, the older term for what we would now call a megalithic tomb, typically a large capstone supported by upright stones forming a chamber, alongside an ogham stone, one of those upright pillars inscribed with the early Irish alphabet of notched lines used to mark names and territories from roughly the fourth to the seventh centuries. Both features were recorded. Neither can now be found.

The record goes back to an observer named O'Connell, working under the Office of Public Works, who noted both the cromlech and the ogham at this location. His observation was later incorporated into the archaeological survey of the Iveragh Peninsula compiled by A. O'Sullivan and J. Sheehan and published by Cork University Press in 1996. Whether O'Connell was working in the nineteenth century or the early twentieth, the notes do not specify, but the gap between his record and the present is long enough that the landscape has had ample time to change around whatever he saw. Stones get buried by accumulating peat, rolled into field boundaries, or simply misidentified in the first place. An ogham stone in particular can be easily overlooked once its inscription weathers beyond legibility.

What remains is essentially an absence, a mapped coordinate on the peninsula where something significant was once thought to stand. That quality of the vanished-but-recorded is itself a particular feature of Irish archaeology, where the documentation of a monument sometimes outlasts the monument itself by centuries.