I continued organising rusty metal bits and pieces, tossing like into piles with like and checking my phone for any news. Finally, it was time. Although the interview was being conducted in my own house, I’d watch Caleb on TV in my bedroom.

‘Fire hero or firebug?’ Arthur Simmons, toupee smoothed slickly, asked Australia through our screens. ‘Tonight guest reporter Sadie Riley exclusively interviews the man twice questioned by police about the Brunton fires. Sadie’s a respected reporter for The Melbourne Herald. She has exclusive contact with the alleged arsonist. Good evening, Sadie. Welcome to In Australia Tonight.’

The vision cut to Sadie, clutching a microphone on our street. Behind her stretched a vista of the blackened Yarra Ranges. ‘I’m in Brunton, in Victoria’s heartbroken Yarra Valley, not far from the abandoned Damper Creek fossicker’s hut where police allege the devastating Brunton fires were deliberately lit, right when weather conditions were at their worst. Fourteen people died in Brunton, including a young baby, and the parents of the suspect’s then girlfriend.

‘Here, live on air, the alleged arsonist, who gives permission for us to identify him as eighteen-year-old unemployed Caleb Wharton, will answer our questions. But first, some background. Although it’s believed he has no prior convictions for arson, in The Melbourne Herald, I’ve already revealed he was responsible for a major vehicle accident last year. This accident left a young boy crippled, yet, shockingly, Wharton served no jail time.

‘Wharton was cleared of responsibility for the accident and denies responsibility for the Brunton inferno. But our expert psychologist says Wharton fits the profile of a pyromaniac. A loner, Wharton is allegedly fascinated with fire. Tonight he has agreed to take a lie detector test with Dr June Robb, a former member of Australian Military Intelligence.’

Another cut revealed Caleb, hair brushed back, pale and uncomfortable, apparently prepared for medieval torture. He clicked metal devices, one attached to each of his fingertips, like the talons of a huge insect. A red-haired woman, crisp white jacket projecting the image of a serious, medically sound scientist, sat, upright, beside him.

‘Mr Wharton,’ Sadie continued, an invisible distance off-camera. ‘I’m confirming to our audience that you came to us. That you offered to take this test.’

Caleb nodded. His thick fringe fell over his eyes and he vanished back into the persona of a mysterious teen. ‘I want people to know the truth.’

So why wouldn’t he talk to me?

‘You admit Taskforce Phosphorus detectives questioned you about the Brunton fire?’ Sadie asked.

‘What they say is crap!’ Caleb insisted. ‘One day, they blame me because they don’t know where I was. Next thing they’re saying I’m guilty because of where I was.’

‘Weren’t you at the fossicker’s hut?’

‘I’m not saying anything until you turn on your machine.’