I remember flipping through the pictures people were posting. Mari laughing. Mari looking at something on the horizon, but with half an eye on the camera. A typical school photograph. Mari as a baby. Mari with her arm around Ida Hammer.

The photos of Johannes were all very similar: on stage, microphone to his mouth, dry ice in the background, his index and little fingers doing the let’s rock sign. Hundreds of people had liked those photos as well.

It didn’t seem right to do nothing. To say nothing. I didn’t really want to share my memories or my thoughts with anyone, but I kept on hearing Yngve Mork’s questions in my head. And the feeling that the whole of Fredheim was assuming I was the one who’d committed the murders was overwhelming. That was why I decided to go to my Facebook page.

‘Could you share with the court what you wrote, please?’

Ms Håkonsen approaches me with a piece of paper. I take a look at it. There they are. My own words. Looking at them again, I can’t believe I actually wrote them. They feel like words written by someone desperately trying to convince people he’s innocent.

I’ve never enjoyed reading out loud. But this is on a whole other level. At least two hundred people are looking at me.

I clear my voice before starting.

‘Most of you know that Mari and I were going out until only a few days ago. And lots of you will probably be thinking that I was upset and angry when she dumped me. And I’ll be honest, I was. But I could never – NEVER – have hurt her. I loved Mari. And I respected and looked up to Johannes. The world is a poorer place without them, and I will never forget them.’

My mouth has become as dry as sand, so I take a quick sip of my water and put down the piece of paper.

‘What was the response to that post?’

‘It was good. A lot of people liked it.’

‘Did that make you feel better?’

‘A little.’

‘But you still weren’t done defending yourself.’

I squint my eyes, not sure what she means.

‘You agreed to do an interview with Ole Hoff from the local newspaper, on the very same day, didn’t you? Wasn’t that rather soon – after everything that had happened, after being interviewed by the police?’

She turns around slightly to look at the people around us, like they all agree that it was an odd thing to do.