WE HAVE pored over the minutiae of her marriage and have had her private confidences turned inside out before us.
We have tracked her movements in those last few days, and watched as vestiges of her everyday life have been bagged, tagged and rebranded under exhibit numbers.
But yesterday the court came closest to hearing the woman's own voice for the first time.
It may have taken more than a week, and it lasted for little more than a minute at the end of a sitting given over mostly to DNA science and the mechanics of domestic intruder alarms, but for those few moments, Siobhán Kearney was restored to the first person.
It came via an e-mail Siobhán sent the night before her body was found.
"Hi there Ali," she began, thanking her brother's partner, Alessandra Benedetti, for helping with some translation.
"All is hectic here with the excitement of . . . baby George. He's just like a little marshmallow.
"How are Tom and Kevin? We are so thrilled you guys are coming over in April - can't wait to get my mitts on them," she wrote.
Siobhán told Alessandra her boy was "all action - I can't keep up with him, he is just mad out - wild, wild, wild.
"He loves Madonna and wants to listen to her CDs all day and then watch John Wayne movies," she wrote.
"He's gun mad, football mad. Can't sit down for one second. I lost three pounds last week.
"I hate to think about the time he is due to go to school.
"Say a prayer for me!! Talk soon. Big love and kisses to all the famiglia. Love, Siobhán."
"And then a large number of x-es," said Dominic McGinn, for the prosecution, as he finished reading the e-mail.
A short silence followed, but Aisling and Brighid McLaughlin had already begun to sob, overcome by the sudden presence of their sister's voice.
So too had Aoife, Brian Kearney's daughter from a previous relationship, who sat only a few yards from the McLaughlins, with her father.
Brian Kearney took up his customary seat to the judge's left yesterday, alternately facing the witness box and a fixed spot on the wooden ledge in front of him.
His eyes tended not to follow witnesses until they passed directly in front of him, and only rarely did he turn towards the public gallery to his left.
His hands were as busy as his body was still, one moment rubbing his forehead, the next scrunching a tissue between his fingers. Often he would tap his fingers soundlessly against the oak surface.
He stared inscrutably ahead as Dr Dorothy Ramsbottom, a forensic scientist specialising in DNA analysis, told the court of the testing and retesting she carried out on the hoover flex found entwined around Siobhán Kearney's body.
The court won't sit tomorrow due to the death of a juror's grandmother.
It will be a fitting time for Court 3 to fall silent: that will be the second anniversary of Siobhán Kearney's death.