“They’ve taken out all the stops today,” said one Supreme Court official, shaking her head - and her umbrella - as she tried in vain to get into her locked office during the lunchtime break yesterday.

Inside, the usher normally charged with keeping court one under lock and key raised an eyebrow when he realised Police had already secured the doors.

He nodded vigorously when asked if the presence of Cherie Booth - top-flight lawyer and, coincidentally, wife of the second most powerful man in the Western world - meant much additional security. “You can say that again,” he chuckled. “Well, you know how it is.”

Earlier, as Ms Booth opened the judicial review, outlining her argument as to why a decision last year not to reopen the case of slain teen Rebecca Middleton was wrong, the casual observer might not have noticed that anything particularly unusual was going on.

True, several benches were labelled “press seating” and the court room door swung open slightly more often than usual as local defence and prosecution lawyers stepped in for a listen.

But Ms Booth’s un-showy, relaxed delivery and the lack of a packed public gallery suggested nothing especially out of the ordinary. As she continued with her calm, persuasive submissions, however, closer inspection revealed that all was not as normal.

On the seats usually occupied by court staff and legal assistants were a number of suited and booted men keeping a sharp watch on the entrances and exits to the court. Junior Justice Minister Michael Scott drifted in, as did former prosecutor Senator Wayne Caines, Puisne Judge Geoffrey Bell and former Attorney General Larry Mussenden.

Behind the bench occupied by Ms Booth and James Guthrie, the British barrister brought in by the Crown, sat an impassive Vinette Graham-Allen, Director of Public Prosecutions. Nothing in her demeanour could have given away the fact that the legal submissions being made by Ms Booth were critical of a decision made by her.

Rebecca’s father David Middleton sat watching Ms Booth - his gaze steady as he took the occasional note or quietly commented to Rick Meens, the Canadian with whom Rebecca was staying during her ill-fated trip to Bermuda.

The teenager’s mother - who separated from Rebecca’s father before her death - was on the opposite side of the courtroom in the public gallery.

Cindy Bennett’s tired, drawn features suggested countless sleepless nights in the run-up to this week’s hearing, yet she listened intently, scribbling constantly on a yellow notepad. Both parents stared straight ahead, features unflinching, as Ms Booth sketched out brief, painful details of the rape and murder of their daughter 11 years ago. The benches set aside for the press were only half-full but many of the faces were unfamiliar - Canadian journalists from Becky’s homeland flown here to report on a case which still makes national headline news there.

As Mr. Guthrie’s submissions began, the wind outside howled, causing doors to slam and sleepy reporters to jerk awake. Much of the hearing, for them, was dry case law and legal argument.

Becky’s mother, meanwhile, remained rapt throughout, her pen barely resting as she leant forward to hear the barrister’s sonorous voice.

Her fixed expression never faltered until Chief Justice Richard Ground broke for lunch. At that, she turned and smiled at a woman close to her on the bench: Marsha Jones, whose son Shaundae’s murder has never been solved either. The pair moved closer, heads inclined, sharing confidences - two mothers linked by loss.

Lawyers crowd court for showdown