I think back to that day – Yngve asking me if there was anything I knew about Mari or Johannes that might help them solve the case. If Mari had been in an argument with anyone, for instance. I said no, because at the time I didn’t really know. Then and there I really didn’t know anything about the last days of Mari’s life.

‘Tell us some more about the school show,’ Ms Håkonsen says next. ‘You said you didn’t play in the band. Who took your place?’

‘Imo. My uncle. He was the musical director of the show anyway. I told him about Mari and that I didn’t want to play. At first he tried to persuade me to change my mind, but I guess he understood what kind of state I was in, and then he said it was fine, he would step in for me. He’d written most of the songs anyway.’

‘That’s handy,’ Ms Håkonsen says. ’That he could just do that.’

‘Well, yes,’ I reply.

She adjusts her round glasses. ‘According to your statement that day, you didn’t go out at all that evening.’

I think about my answer for a few seconds. ‘I … thought I hadn’t,’ I say carefully.

‘You thought you hadn’t gone out?’

‘No, I … Well, what I meant, is that, at the time, I couldn’t quite remember what I did the evening of the…’ I still find it hard to say out loud.

‘The murders,’ Ms Håkonsen finishes for me.

‘Yes. But later I remembered that I’d taken the dog out for a walk. I’d promised my mother I’d do it.’

‘So, again, you kind of blacked out that bit?’

‘I didn’t black out, no. I just didn’t remember until later.’

‘But you’ve blacked out before, haven’t you?’

‘I … what do you mean?’

‘You’ve had episodes before where you’ve been so angry that you haven’t remembered until later what you’ve done.’

I realise what she’s talking about. I just didn’t think she would bring it up in court.

‘Yes,’ I say quietly.

‘Speak up, please,’ the judge orders.

‘Sorry. Yes. I … I sometimes lose my temper – when I play football mostly,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen red during a match a couple of times, and sort of blacked out, yes.’

Ms Håkonsen looks at me for a few seconds. ‘So you admit to being angry on the night of the murders. You admit to blacking out from time to time when you’re angry. And you didn’t, at first, recall having left the house that night.’

I know how it all sounds, but I have no choice – I have to agree with her.

‘What time did you go out with the dog?’

‘It must have been around eleven.’

‘And what time did the school doors close that evening?’