Then it was Dan’s turn to take the stand and explain who he was and the kind of work he’d carried out with Archie since his arrest. Marcy was sure she detected an air of incredulity about the jury as they listened, as though they’d never heard of restorative justice before and weren’t too sure what to make of it.

It was after lunch that Gordon Lock stood up to inform the jury of how unusual it was for the defense counsel to call someone who would ordinarily have been a witness for the prosecution.

“There is no doubt,” he expounded, fixing them with his hawk-like eyes, “that Ms. Kavanagh was grievously harmed in the fire, as you will see when she takes the stand. That tragic reality is not being contested here today. What we are going to examine is whether or not the defendant acted recklessly so as to endanger life.”

He took a moment to glance down at his notes. “Normal procedure,” he continued, “would be for me to question Ms. Kavanagh about the night of the fire and what she remembers about it. Instead she is going to tell you of the experience in her own words, and at the same time she will offer you an insight into how she views the events—and the defendant. I would ask you to keep in mind as she speaks how difficult it is for someone with injuries such as she has to allow themselves to be exposed to your scrutiny.” He turned to the judge. “Thank you for your indulgence in this matter, your honor, and now I call Ms. Marcy Kavanagh to the stand.”

As Marcy was escorted to the witness box and handed the Bible, she’d never felt so conspicuous or nervous in her life. There was a sickening dread inside her, a shake to her hands, and the stares from all quarters were overpowering. As she swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, she was aware above all of Archie’s eyes on her. No doubt he was wondering if she’d got his letter and if she had why she was doing this. She wanted to look at him, to try to communicate with him on some level, but by the time she raised her eyes his head was down.

Don’t give up, she willed him. Dan has already said his piece, and now I’m going to do what I can to try and win these people over.

Feeling a dry, painful throbbing through the left side of her face as if it were coming alive to its limelight, she turned to the jury. Her notes were in her hand if she needed them, and she felt certain she would.