IT WAS just after 9am and the sun was breaking through the treetops when John McAreavey arrived at the fine colonial-era courthouse in the heart of Port Louis, the bustling Mauritian capital.
Such were the crowds waiting for the trial of the two men accused of murdering his late wife, Michaela, that McAreavey – accompanied by his father Brendan, sister Claire and brother-in-law Mark Harte – had to be pushed through a chaotic scrum of people waiting for court number five to open its doors. Dressed in a light-blue shirt and dark trousers, he was led through the throng in hushed silence, save for the rat-a-tat of camera shutter rounds following his every step.
The courtroom itself was only marginally more comfortable. The bare, wood-panelled room has seating capacity for about 70 people, but yesterday there were twice as many standing and others were turned away for lack of space. With patchy speakers and four air-conditioning units whirring in the background, it was difficult at times to hear what was being said – a problem court staff began to address, with the arrival of a new mic, in the afternoon.
All morning, there was jostling for space and small battles of attrition to gain the best vantage point. From the public gallery, the sound was a multilingual blend of English, French and Mauritian Creole. In enforced proximity, journalists mingled with witnesses’ families, and law students chatted to the police.
The trial has generated huge Irish media interest – there are as many Irish reporters covering it as there would be at a big criminal trial in Dublin – but the Mauritian press has been following it just as closely.
Yesterday the local newspapers and radio bulletins led with the story, as they often have since Michaela McAreavey was killed in January last year. Her death was the first time a tourist had been killed in one of the island’s hotels, shocking Mauritians and obliging the government to mount a public relations effort to safeguard the vital tourist industry.
Discussions even took place about making the trial the first to be broadcast live on national television, but ended without agreement between lawyers and the Mauritian courts authority.
The bulk of the opening day was given over to the swearing-in of the jury. From a panel of 100 Mauritians, who would have risked a fine of 500 rupees (€13) had they not turned up, nine jurors were selected – six men and three women. Once they had chosen their foreman, their day was done, but only after a stern warning from Judge Prithviraj Fecknah not to watch television, read newspapers, discuss the case among themselves or pay any heed to conversations about it. They were then sent to a hotel.
Directly across from the jurors sat the two accused men. Hotel room attendant Avinash Treebhoowoon (30) from Plaine des Roches, and floor supervisor Sandip Moneea (42), from Petit Raffray, both of whom deny the charges, had been among the first to arrive yesterday.
They were driven from different prisons in and around Port Louis in two police vans, their sirens blaring as they cut through the morning traffic and sped towards a side entrance.
Treebhoowoon, the younger man, wore a plain white shirt and dark trousers; Moneea was dressed in a blue-and-white striped shirt.
As it happened, John McAreavey wasn’t in court for long yesterday.
He spent much of the day in an adjacent room with other prosecution witnesses. He didn’t speak to reporters afterwards, but stood at his sister Claire’s shoulder as she read out a short statement asking the media to accept their need for space and privacy for the duration of the trial.
An afternoon taken up with legal argument came to an early close, but given that the prosecution alone has said it intends to call about 30 witnesses – including police, forensic scientists and hotel staff – the days ahead are expected to be long and intense.
The trial is scheduled to last two weeks. But it’s a complex case with a long witness list. As the judge warned the jurors before they retired, it could well take longer than expected.
