His entire family still lived in Australia. The eldest brother looked after their now elderly parents.

Having listened intently, Manolis extracted the moist biro from his lips. ‘So, you’re an Australian citizen?’

Cook’s face grew heavy with disappointment. ‘No. I had a child visa through my parents. And after being here so long, I can’t see myself as anything other than Australian. My whole life has been here, family and friends, work and memories. But officially no, I’m not Australian. On paper, I’m British. And that’s the problem.’

It had all started two years earlier. Cook admitted he’d had some ‘previous driving convictions, minor drug and alcohol offences, but nothing that attracted more than a fine’. Then he lit a fire. It was in bushland near his property, ostensibly to clear some old growth that itself was a fire hazard. The blaze was promptly extinguished by the Rural Fire Service, burning less than an acre of scrubland. It did not destroy any property or threaten life. It wasn’t even during summer. It was late April, autumn.

‘I was convicted of arson,’ Cook said. His words were muted, had an airless quality.

Manolis listened, wrote notes, but there was something in Cook’s voice that made him question his conviction. The detective nodded, but didn’t feel certain. He remembered the fire at the detention centre and his burnt car.

‘Did you have a permit?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Then fair enough,’ said the pragmatic lawman. ‘You do the crime, you do the time.’

‘Oh, I agree. No complaints there. I deserved to go to the nick. But it’s what came after…’

Cook claimed he’d been a model inmate, completing all the necessary rehabilitation programs and counselling. The prisoners’ review board noted that he’d demonstrated ‘a strong motivation to change his offending behaviour’, while a limited criminal history indicated ‘an ability to lead a pro-social life when returned to society’. After fifteen months, he was free.

‘Yes, I was free,’ Cook said. ‘Free as a bird.’ Then his face shadowed, his eyes sharpened. ‘I was free as a bird for all of two minutes.’

With his lungs still inhaling the air of freedom, Cook was apprehended at the prison gates. Only this time it wasn’t by police officers – it was by government immigration officials. He pointed out his visa but to no avail. He was immediately trucked to Cobb and handed over to the guards at the detention centre.

‘As it turns out, the immigration minister can now cancel the visas of people who’ve been convicted of a crime and sentenced to at least a year in prison,’ Cook said. ‘This is on the grounds of the so-called “national interest”. Apparently, I fail the character test. Who sits before you is a person of poor character.’