The Kearney marriage has become the site of a very public excavation. Little by little, layers of discretion and privacy are being peeled away and a jury of strangers is being led through the sort of marital minutiae that is usually kept to intimates.
Letters marked "strictly confidential" were parsed and pored over in court yesterday. We learned of Siobhán and Brian's first meeting, of their on-off engagement, their "wonderful" honeymoon in Granada, their sleeping arrangements and their newlyweds' dream of one day owning a yacht on the Mediterranean.
And we learned of their troubles.
Brian Kearney - his parents, sister, brother and daughter sitting by his side - held his customary focused stare as his late wife's solicitor told the court he had sent a series of letters about Siobhán's desire for a separation in the weeks leading up to her death.
In one letter, Hugh Hannigan said Mr Kearney was "putting considerable pressure on our client to return to Hotel Salvia in two to three weeks, even to the extent of asking on what date he should book airplane tickets, while at the same time suggesting a trial separation". The letter also said Ms Kearney felt "pressure and isolation" running the hotel.
Later, Mr Hannigan agreed with defence counsel Patrick Gageby that "one normally doesn't speak well of the other side" in these types of letters.
The McLaughlin family's composure showed only occasional signs of strain. Who can guess what pain a father feels listening to these things, but when a doctor described the position of Siobhán's body on the morning of February 28th, 2006 - lying on her back in a sweater and pyjama bottoms, a flex under her body and "a linear mark around the neck" - Owen McLaughlin snr bowed his head and shut his eyes.
Later, as Det Sgt Michael Gibbons told the court of how he commiserated with Mr McLaughlin just after viewing her body, Siobhán's father dabbed his eyes gently with a tissue he kept clenched in his fist.
It was hot in court yesterday. Suit jackets were shed and, at one stage, a plumber came to turn off one of the radiators. One woman took off her shoes. Deirdre McLaughlin kept her gloves on.
The courtroom listened rapt as Det Sgt Gibbons, one of the senior officers involved in the case, told of a statement Brian Kearney gave to gardaí on March 1st, 2006. Prosecuting counsel Denis Vaughan Buckley read each line as it stood, in the staccato style of the genre.
Occupation: businessman
Date of Birth: 28.02.57
Siobhán was found dead on her husband's birthday.
They had met 17 years previously, Kearney told gardaí. "She was 21, I was 31. I thought she was older. She looked so in command of things."
After going out for a few years, Siobhán moved in to the Ballinteer house he shared with his then three-year-old daughter from a previous relationship.
They got engaged, but the relationship broke down and he and Siobhán separated for four or five years. He didn't see anyone else and they kept in touch, meeting up from time to time for a meal, and once taking a trip on the Shannon together.
Eventually they reunited. Siobhán got pregnant but miscarried. Marriage came in June 2002. It was a little later that they spent €2.2 million on a house in Majorca, which they would later turn into Hotel Salvia. "During the holiday season she lives there March to October. [ Our son] lives there with her. I go back and forth. It's going well," he said.
As Mr Vaughan Buckley read from the statement, Brian Kearney's brother placed a hand on the accused man's shoulder and squeezed gently. A few yards away, Owen McLaughlin kept his fist tightly clenched.
On the night before Siobhán's body was found, Mr Kearney told gardaí he fell asleep reading his son a story and slept through the night, only waking once to take the child to the toilet. He didn't notice anything amiss.
As he was leaving the next morning, he tried the door to Siobhán's room and found it locked, which was unusual. He shouted "I'm off", gave the boy a kiss and left the house.
