I asked her, in her office with the door shut, whether she remembered taking a call from a Carmen Abreu in the summer of 2014.

And Sheena Prather said, immediately, without a pause: “Yeah.

Of course I do.”

I had to sit down.

She said: “I remember because I didn’t know what to do with it.

You’d been divorced about six months and everybody knew, and I had your ex-wife on the phone saying it was important, and I’m twenty-six and I’d been there two years.

“So I didn’t leave it on your desk.

I took it out to the yard and I gave it to you in your hand, because I thought if I put it in the pile you might not see it.

I remember thinking that.

I was pretty pleased with myself about it.”