First, Irene Pileris questioned him about his efforts to find Kendra, his appeals to anyone who might’ve known where she was, even following John Santino as he left the bar one night, hoping Santino might lead him to wherever the couple was living. All these attempts failed.

‘So you had no contact with Kendra for three months, is that correct?’ asked Pileris.

‘That’s correct.’

‘Then on the thirtieth of September that year, there was a missed call on your phone.’

‘Yes, from a number I didn’t recognise. That’s why I didn’t call back,’ he explained. ‘After that, I had to go into a rehearsal session so I put my phone on silent. Four hours later, I turned my phone back on. There was a text from that same number.’

‘Can you read that text for us, Mr Ross?’ asked Pileris. ‘Do you need a copy?’ She reached for a piece of paper to hand to him.

‘Thank you, no. I remember it word for word.’

Pileris gestured to indicate he should go ahead.

‘The text said, Hallo, my Norwegian bror. Miss you. Sorry for disappearing. Got kinda crazy here with J. But I’ll be free soon and we’ll see each other again. I love you, my beautiful friend. KB.’

‘Did you respond to the text?’

‘I tried ringing the number but it was switched off. So I messaged back saying I loved her and I’d see her soon.’

‘And did you?’

‘No. By the time I saw her text, Kendra was already dead.’

As Irene Pileris concluded her questioning and sat down, Damien Ross took a wad of tissues out of his pocket and pressed them against his eyes. Anita noticed two female jurors were reaching into their handbags for tissues to mop at tears.

At first, in his cross-examination of Damien Ross, Woodburn came on smarmy.

‘I’m impressed by the way you’ve made the witness stand your stage, Mr Ross! I love all the voices you do. You strike me as a good actor. Would you say you’re a good actor?’

Damien frowned, cautious, not falling for the smarm, and answered in a flat tone. ‘Not for me to say. I hope I’m a good actor.’

‘And good actors are skilled at playing a character, are they not? Skilled at making a fictional story sound convincing?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘So in a way, Mr Ross, your acting training has made you a trained liar. How can the jury be sure this isn’t a convincing performance of a sequence of lies?’

Damien inhaled sharply, furious, and Anita silently urged him to keep his cool. He did keep his cool. ‘I’m not telling lies. Why would I do that?’