We sit down around an oval conference table. It seems Advocate Deshen and Gregory Marriot from the law firm have different ideas on strategy. They were arguing when I walked in, and they are still arguing.

“Diminished capacity is a non-starter,” says Deshen. “I’ll be laughed out of court. Maybe if he had done it himself rather than hiring a proxy, we’d have something to work with. But as it is . . .”

“Imraan, I respect your judgement, I really do, but I don’t think you’re familiar with the PTSD suffered by white farmers in this country. There is a lot of literature on it. I’ll get my secretary to email some of it to you. Just because there is the distance of time and place to separate him from the act, doesn’t mean he couldn’t have snapped. For him, the act of snapping was calling the proxy.”

“He has never been attacked in his life. How could he be suffering from PTSD? PTSD from what? Living a life of unassailable ease?”

“There are studies to show that white farmers suffer from PTSD even if they haven’t been attacked themselves. They are affected by the long history of violence against their peers. It’s a real, documented syndrome, suffered by thousands of farmers due to . . .”

“If you use the words ‘white genocide,’ I swear to God I am going to . . .”

Abigail calls them to order. “Gregory . . . Imraan . . . with respect, I think we should confine this consultation to matters that affect Ms. Lurie. We can discuss strategy once she has concluded her business with us.” This is accompanied by a significant look.

“You’re right,” says Advocate Deshen. “Of course.”

Marriot opens his briefcase and takes out a case file loosely tied up with green tape. When he opens it, I see my name and my father’s name. He tilts the file, so I can’t read the words.

“Now, Miss Lurie, we’ve been over the statement you originally gave to the police on the morning after your attack, and I have to say, well done. It has been of great help to us in building your father’s defence strategy. There are just a few matters we want to go over with you.”

“You want me to go over that night again?” I say. “I suppose I can if I have to. The first thing I remember is . . .”

“No!” Advocate Deshen almost shouts.

“Stop!” says Marriot.

I recoil.

“You have to understand that we can’t unhear anything you may choose to say to us,” explains Abigail. “As a member of the bar, Advocate Deshen has an obligation to disclose any relevant evidence he may come across that might assist the court in making its finding. Even if that evidence goes against us.”

“You don’t want me blurting out anything that might hurt my father’s case?”