Dr Branham was sworn in and stared at him in the dock for a long moment. Was she not allowed to smile at him? Her job was to make people feel better. On the night of the fire, when Caleb’s head had been sore, Dr Branham had tried to be reassuring. Caleb had let her think her kindness worked. But now he stared down at his feet. The fire had confused him. He’d forgotten he didn’t deserve to feel better.

‘You’re an expert in head injuries and concussion?’ Douglas asked her. ‘In your opinion, what was wrong with Caleb that evening?’

‘Initially, I diagnosed smoke inhalation, a minor concussion. He said a falling branch struck him. His hands were burned from moving the same branch.’ She looked at the prosecutor but he’d abandoned the idea that Caleb’s burned hands were proof of guilt.

The questions continued. Eventually Douglas asked if Selena had anything she’d like to add. She addressed the bench, speaking very earnestly. ‘When Caleb came to the hospital, he didn’t look like a guilty man. I had the feeling then that the police didn’t like him.’

‘Objection,’ Charles Scott said.

Nina Haynes finally let an emotion break through her mask. She looked sceptical. ‘On what grounds?’

‘This feeling Dr Branham describes…’

‘A feeling that the police were persecuting Caleb,’ Douglas interrupted, helpfully.

Charles Scott frowned and pulled at the edges of his robe. ‘This feeling is clearly well outside Dr Branham’s area of expertise.’

‘Objection sustained.’

What sort of justice was this? The next defence witness was the fire expert Mum raved about, Millicent Marbury. Before questioning her, Douglas smiled at Nina Haynes. Now, his expression said, you’ll hear the truth. He helped Millicent establish her academic credentials. She drew a verbal picture of the day she had reimagined, with dried leaves like kindling in a fireplace. She concluded that powerlines were as likely to be responsible as an arsonist.

But Charles looked smug, taking over. ‘The Crown alleges the accused deliberately set fire to dried tussock grasses. Did you find evidence that the fire did not begin in the grass?’

The professor coughed, confused, before admitting, ‘No specific evidence. But—’

‘Thank you. No specific evidence. That will do. Thank you, Professor Marbury.’

Mum looked smaller, slumped into her bench like it was the mouth of the court, somehow consuming her. Professor Marbury didn’t look her way or at Caleb as she left the stand, defeated.