I was working a morning shift at the Brunswick CIB, following up on a string of burglaries; the offender had gained entry by forcing locks on back doors of old houses—usually with a good kicking—then headed into the laundry or a bedroom to grab a pair of socks, used the socks as gloves, then took laptops, phones and jewellery. He then discarded the socks in the front yard, like a calling card. We had dubbed him Sock Man.

One of the uniforms popped his head into the CIB offices and spoke to me, since I was closest to the door.

‘I’ve got a girl at the counter,’ he said, blushing a little, ‘says she’s been …’

I raised my eyebrows in question.

‘… er … raped.’ His colour deepened.

I got up from my desk and followed the uniform. I went into the corridor and opened the door connecting the counter area to the offices behind. He pointed out the woman, then beat a hasty retreat. She was standing near the counter, arms wrapped around herself in a hug. She looked young. Exposed. Scared. When she heard the door, she lifted her head and I could see dark circles under her eyes.

Moving over to her, I introduced myself and asked her to come with me, away from the people milling around the counter.

When we were seated in the CI office, the girl finally spoke. ‘I’m Gemma Watson,’ she said in a small voice.

I sat opposite her. ‘What can I do for you, Gemma?’

Whatever weight she carried was too much for her. Tears spilled from her haunted eyes, her shoulders shook, and sobs seemed to rise up from the very core of her being. I moved closer, plucked a bunch of tissues from a box on the desk, and put an arm around her. As much as I tried to remain professionally detached, it was impossible in the eruption of profound distress.

When she finally calmed, I made us both a cup of tea.

‘I feel so stupid,’ Gemma began. ‘It’s probably my fault, but …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Tell me what happened,’ I said.

Gemma’s story was one that was all too common. She had been nightclubbing with two friends. She’d had several drinks at a couple of clubs before going to the Gun Alley Nightclub in the city. A guy asked her to dance. Then, when she stumbled, he offered to take her outside for some fresh air. Instead of going out the front, he took her to a park on the corner. He tried to kiss her and she let him at first, but it felt like he thought it was an invitation for sex, right then and there.

‘God, I’d just met the guy,’ said Gemma. ‘He was all over me.’ She shivered with the recounting, like a spider had crawled on her. ‘I kept telling him to stop, but he kept saying it was okay.’