‘It was Kendra’s idea to change her phone number and cut contact with Damien and her other friends. Now, I realise that was part of her mental illness and I should’ve argued back more.’

The voice coming out of John Santino’s face was sweet, hesitant, loving, but it was the same voice Anita had heard on the recording threatening and ridiculing Kendra. Anita looked at the jury. They hadn’t heard that recording and they didn’t know his history, so they could only judge this man on what they were seeing now. And now, many of the jurors were softening with sympathy.

Woodburn shifted into a new gear, adopting a gentle, you-poor-thing tone as he asked about Kendra’s final days.

Santino let his voice break a little bit as he answered. ‘I blame myself. Kendra told me she wanted to kill herself but I didn’t want to believe she would really do it.’

‘Did you wrest a knife off Kendra on one occasion?’ asked Woodburn.

Santino dropped his head, as if too overcome to answer, but then went bravely on. ‘Yes, she was holding the knife up to her own throat. I kind of dived over, got the knife off her, but she accidentally cut her hand—here.’ On his own hand, he indicated the location of the laceration Kendra had had stitched up in the medical centre.

‘On another occasion, did you find a packet of oxycodone tablets in Kendra’s handbag?’ Woodburn asked.

‘Yes, I did. She told me she had enough there to kill herself with.’

‘Do you know where she obtained those serious opioid drugs?’

‘No clue. I guess there are places in the Cross you can buy stuff like that illegally.’

‘Did you go to the police?’

‘No. I flushed them down the toilet as soon as I found them. But I regret that now. I should’ve gone to the police. Kendra might still be alive if I’d … I thought we could get help for her and it’d all be okay. But I was wrong.’

Santino then let rip with his full grief performance, complete with snotty crying, and Woodburn requested an early lunch adjournment so his client could gather himself.

As spectators filed out of Court 3, Damien Ross zigzagged quickly between the ambling people and out the door, so Anita lost her chance to throw him a fortifying smile or whatever feeble attempt at supportiveness she would’ve tried.

She stayed in her seat to finish typing the morning’s notes, then made her way through the dog-legs of the courthouse corridors to reach the ladies. Anita sat on the loo for a few extra moments, trying to breathe away some of the distress from the morning.