Bill said, ‘They were trying to get them into the ambulances, without too many people seeing. But the camera guy we had up here, he was filming everything, and Ben was going nuts, saying, shoot this and shoot that. And when I saw what he’d put together, later on the news that night, he’d captured it perfectly. He said, “It was like after a bomb has gone off, with the walking wounded, then the wheelchairs, and then stretchers, into the ambulances.”’

‘How long would you say that whole process took, Shirl?’ I asked.

She made a face like she was thinking about it and said, ‘I reckon it took a good hour. I’m talking from the time the first of the walking ones came out in the silver blankets to when the ambulances took off from the street. And I thought, “Well, that’s the drama over then.” But the camera guy knew better. He said, “They’ve still got to bring the culprits out.”’

‘The Delaneys?’

Bill said, ‘The Delaneys, that’s right. There was a bit of a break between the children being carried out and the Delaneys being marched out, but everyone in the street knew by then what was going on, and there was jeering. First came the bloke with the scruffy goatee and the tatts – Mark, the one who cut the trees – and then came his missus, the one they call Snow.’

I asked, ‘Were they handcuffed, Bill?’

Bill nodded, saying, ‘They were. They were handcuffed, and they were walked straight to the police cars and they were put in. Not together. One in each car. They weren’t saying anything, or not anything that I could see. She – the woman, Snow – had her mouth shut in a tight line. A female police officer had her hand on top of her head and was pushing her down so her knees bent and she had to get in the car. A male police officer was doing the same thing to the bloke, pushing him into the car, and you could see he didn’t want to go.’

‘And then both cars took off?’

Bill said, ‘Right. Both cars took off. But that wasn’t the end of the circus either. Because when the barriers at the end of the street came down, the media swarmed in, and Ben took a call on his mobile and he said, “There’s going to be a press conference, I better get down there,” and he and the cameraman packed up – didn’t leave a mess, nothing, came and went like they’d never been here – and took off, and next thing, we saw them in a big pack around this poor police officer who was trying to explain what had gone on.’

‘They did the press conference here on the street?’

‘They did, and it was like you’ve seen on TV, with the fluffy mikes waving around and the blokes with cameras on their shoulders.’

Like I said earlier, I didn’t make it to Bondi on the day of the raid, so it goes without saying that I also missed the press conference, but I’ve watched the tape of it, one that Ben gave me, and I’ve seen the transcript. New South Wales police media liaison officer Brett Masonwells took the questions. You’d know Masonwells if you saw him. He’s the guy who always speaks for the police and he looks exactly like you’d expect: grey hair, perfectly cut, under a shiny police hat. Fifty-eight or maybe fifty-nine years old, career officer, upright bearing, badges across the chest.