My husband left his medication at home, so I stopped by his office to bring it to him. But when I asked the receptionist to call him downstairs, she said, "Ma'am, your husband has been on leave for the past week."

And my husband drove me to that hospital about forty times in fourteen months.

He went in on his own about twenty of those. He sat with my father by himself and he never told me what they talked about and I never once asked him.

And four or five times he sat in that car park with me while I did not get out of the car.

Twenty minutes. Thirty, once.

And that man never said one word about it. Not then. Not in the four years since. Not even when I cut my own sister off in front of him.

So when a consultant said a number to Emeric Vance on the eleventh of June —

he was not guessing what his wife would do.

He was not assuming. He was not being noble about it and he was not protecting me.

He had four years of evidence, which he had collected himself, from a car park.