A few minutes later, Gill climbed the stairs from the cells and emerged in the dock. He was wearing a dark grey business suit, with a mid-blue shirt and a navy and red striped tie. Were it not for his trademark long hair, he would have been indistinguishable from the male lawyers present. He took his place beside his mother. I had a side view of his face. His jaw stiff, he stared straight ahead at the vacant judge’s chair. His mother whispered to him, he nodded, and resumed staring at the same spot. His solicitor left his seat at the front of the courtroom below the judge’s desk, walked down to the dock, and muttered something to Gill. He bent to listen, but didn’t reply. It was unnerving, the silence, the fixed gaze, so different from his garrulous public persona. Proceedings hadn’t started but, when they could bear to drag their eyes away from him, the journalists were already scratching at their notebooks.

Finally, as Gill had, Donnie entered the dock from below. He was dressed, as he had been at the station, in sun holiday clothes. He shivered in his seat, holding his baseball cap in his hand, and stared at the floor. Gill and Esther ignored him entirely.

At twenty past five, the judge took his seat, and the hearing began. Evidence of arrest, charge and caution was given by the guards who had been tasked with formally arresting Gill, Esther and Donnie. Lenihan stood at the side watching for any errors or forgotten details, ready to prompt the prosecutor if needed. But there was little to be done. There would be no bail hearing, as bail in a murder case can only be granted by the High Court, though the various defence solicitors confirmed that applications would be filed as soon as possible. The judge nodded, took a note for the court file and remanded Jeremy Gill and Donnie Bryant in custody to Cloverhill Prison. Sure to be considered a flight risk, they would have a hard time getting out again before the trial. Esther was remanded to the Women’s Prison at Mountjoy. She’d get a comfortable berth in the Dochas Centre, given her age.

‘Any further applications?’

Gill stood and opened his mouth. The judge spoke first.

‘Mr Gill, I think that’s what your solicitor is for.’

Gill’s solicitor shook his head, but his client started to speak. I wondered if this was what the lawyer had said before court, that Gill should stay quiet and refrain from speech-making. If that’s what it was, he was ignoring the advice.