On 29 October Prime Suspect was celebrating. His mum had cooked him a nice dinner in honour of finishing his year 12 classes, and then driven him to Vermont for a swot-vac party. When she arrived back home she pottered around for an hour and a half, feeding her old dog Lizzy and tidying up. At 11 p.m. she decided to call it a night. Not much later, Lizzy barked. `Are you home so soon?' Prime Suspect's mother called out. `Party not much fun?' No-one answered. She sat up in bed. When there was still no answer, her mind raced to reports of a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood. There had even been a few assaults. A muffled male voice came from outside the front door. `Ma'am. Open the door.' She stood up and walked to the front door. `Open the door. Police.' `How do I know you're really the police?' `If you don't open the door, we'll kick it in!' an exasperated male voice shouted back at her from her front doorstep. Prime Suspect's mother saw the outline of something being pressed against the side window. She didn't have her reading glasses on, but it looked like a police badge. Nervously, she opened the front door a little bit and looked out. There were eight or nine people on her doorstep. Before she could stop them, they had pushed past her, swarming into her home. A female officer began waving a piece of paper about. `Look at this!' She said angrily. `It's a warrant! Can you read it?' `No, actually I can't. I don't have my glasses on,' Prime Suspect's mother answered curtly. She told the police she wanted to make a phone call and tried to ring her family solicitor, but without luck. He had been to a funeral and wake and could not be roused. When she reached for the phone a second time, one of the officers began lecturing her about making more phone calls. `You be quiet,' she said pointing her finger at the officer. Then she made another unfruitful call. Prime Suspect's mother looked at the police officers, sizing them up. This was her home. She would show the police to her son's room, as they requested, but she was not going to allow them to take over the whole house. As she tartly instructed the police where they could and could not go, she thought, I'm not standing for any nonsense from you boys. `Where's your son?' one officer asked her. `At a party.' `What is the address?' She eyed him warily. She did not like these officers at all. However, they would no doubt wait until her son returned anyway, so she handed over the address. While the police swarmed though Prime Suspect's room, gathering his papers, computer, modem and other belongings, his mother waited in his doorway where she could keep an eye on them. Someone knocked at the door. An AFP officer and Prime Suspect's mother both went to answer it. It was the police--the state police.