“Is it always this busy?” I ask. I am anxious to get back to my scrolling, but she expects conversation.

“Not always. Not on a Saturday afternoon. But today we have made a significant arrest, and that generates a lot of paperwork. It is just a matter of time before the media hears about it and then we have to be prepared. There will be a media briefing this evening.”

I am so disconnected from quotidian reality that I have no idea what she is talking about. I know more about Buzzfeed listicles than I do about what is happening right now in Cape Town.

What high-profile case is she talking about? I am ashamed of my cluelessness.

“Oh, yes . . .” I say vaguely. “That was the case about the . . .”

“That girl who was gang-raped on a farm a couple of years ago. Do you remember that story? It was all over the news. We still haven’t caught the guys who did it, but this is the closest we’ve ever come. Because who do you think organised the whole thing? Her father. It turns out he hired the men to break in and rape his own daughter. Can you believe that? Some people are wicked, hey? It looks like he did it for the insurance, because he got them to burn down his house afterwards. Anyway, we’ve got him now. He is being questioned with his lawyer.”

I open my mouth and the words come out as steady as a ship on calm seas. “How do you know it was him?”

“We got a tip-off. Probably from one of the guys he hired, who is now looking to make a deal. The station commander is very happy. This is going to be a big feather in his cap.”

She heaves her weight forward and stands.

“I’d better get on. You should go and wait over there by customer services. Some space has opened up. They’ll attend to you soon.”

I thank her and take her advice. I go to customer services to wait with the other citizens of this municipality who are queueing to report stolen cars, traffic accidents, pickpocketings and burglaries.

On some level I think I always knew. There was something in my subconscious warning me about what had really happened—a certain level of awareness that tipped me off. Something that seemed to tell me he was involved from the very beginning.

No. I can’t keep it up. Not even inside my own head.

I didn’t know. I had no idea. My mind is blank. There is a stillness inside me, like breath drawn in before a scream. The emotion that struggles to the surface is incredulity. I don’t think this can be true. This isn’t something that fathers do.