Once Kelly and Millie had left, Neil took a seat behind the table and Thomas and Jordan joined him. Will checked one last time that they were ready, then went to the door and opened it. Dozens of people flooded in and took seats, but strangely, there was little noise. Jordan saw it again: sympathy. It galvanised him and gave him the strength to do what he had to do. When the noise of bodies and equipment moving had stopped, and only the clicking of cameras and the shuffling of papers remained, Will began.

Jordan reflected on all the speeches he’d given at school: for debating club, English language exams and history role plays. He’d never imagined in all that time that he’d one day be sitting next to a police officer, analysing the power of speech. He listened intently and graded Will on his powers of communication, and he was pleasantly surprised. The officer showed intelligence and flair, despite the tough task before him. He was a typical copper: to the point, monotone and brief, but he had passion. He spoke with genuine attention to detail. Then it was Dad’s turn. Jordan held his hand and the cameras clicked. It created a cacophony of mechanical tumult that hurt his head. He tried to concentrate. He’d written his father’s speech. No one coughed, fidgeted or fiddled. Jordan loved his father more in that moment than ever, and even contemplated abandoning his plan because he knew how much he’d let him down should he go through with it. But something was wrong. Dad had frozen. Jordan looked at him and at Will, then he faced the cameras. Will held up photos of Ella. Jordan didn’t need notes.

‘My mother was brutally attacked and murdered for no reason.’

The cameras clicked and flashed. No one else said a word. Thomas covered his face.

‘She wasn’t hated, or in trouble. She’d done nothing wrong.’

He paused and took a deep breath. His throat grew tight and his eyes stung, but he was determined to finish.

‘Her absence is something that we have to live with forever, but those who did this will only face the consequences if they are caught. And they will only be caught with your help.’ He stared at every camera that he could see, in turn. ‘I am begging anyone who knows anything about this crime to call the police – anonymously if you prefer – to help us catch these people, so that we can reach some kind of peace, but most importantly to make sure they are never able to do this again. We would like to share our sympathy with the family of Keira Bradley.’

Neil shifted in his seat. A rumble of questions stirred the room.