‘We need to get Jack Barratt back in for an interview. And we need to find out where that old mattress could be.’ On the drive back to the station, I asked Wozza about DeeDee. From what he could gather, she never came forward, never spoke about what happened. Never made a complaint.

‘Do you know who she is?’ I asked.

‘Nope. After the fiasco, Kara swore she’d never tell us who she was.’

‘They should have ordered a rape kit,’ I said.

‘Yeah, they should have—but you know it wouldn’t have made an ounce of difference,’ he said sadly. ‘DNA evidence would only prove what they all agreed on—that sexual acts had taken place that night. Consent is the issue. You see it time and time again. He says she consented, she says she didn’t. For some unknown reason, juries believe the guy. It’s profoundly unfair. I reckon the innocent-until-proven-guilty thing means that men walk into court innocent and then most of them bloody stay that way.’

It suddenly struck me how ironic that was. Campaigns and training told us to believe the victims, but as far as the courts were concerned, the offender was regarded as innocent from the outset. You can’t have it both ways. I’d seen how it played out in court—not just with Gemma but all the time. Heard heartbreaking stories of trauma and ongoing suffering and nightmares dismissed by the juries in favour of a guy in the defendant’s chair with a hangdog expression while defence lawyers talked about not wanting to jeopardise his future potential with a guilty verdict. Of juries wanting more than he-said, she-said.

But often, that was all there was.

I was glad Wozza could see how this was for women. The unfairness had seeped into him and I could tell he’d do anything to right this wrong. Beside me in the car, he sat in stark relief to my memories of riding in a different car with Daniel, months ago, discussing this very issue. At the beginning of the car ride, he was potentially my life partner, a man I longed for with every fibre of my being. By the time we got where we were going, it was all over and I was wondering how many boxes I’d need to move my stuff out of his apartment. Out of his mouth, I heard the words floating around the car like poisonous gas: innocent until proven guilty … the courts decide … the bloke has his whole life ahead of him … Oblivious in his certainty, Daniel was suggesting that Gemma couldn’t tell the difference between sex and rape, which meant he was also suggesting that I couldn’t either, that I had been duped by her. Fuck that.