The Children's Court: No one was sure who exactly she was.The pretty Nigerian girl with braided hair had come to Ireland at around 16 years of age and was in health board care until she became an adult.But that was all anyone knew for sure.
She had given at least two false names and dates of birth to gardaí. Then they intercepted a letter to her address containing a passport and a driving licence that gave yet another different name and date of birth.
"So what do we call her?" asked Judge Tom O'Donnell, as he wrote her details into an official document.
In between sobs of tears and rapid-fire bursts of talking, the girl insisted that this time she was telling the truth. She gave false information, she said, because as a teenager she was entitled to around €130 in social welfare. Now, as an adult, that was reduced to just over €19.
She was still insisting that she did not intentionally do anything wrong and that the passport and driver's licence were not meant for her.
"The photo isn't me" she sobbed, as she was questioned by a garda. "How can it be me? I'm sure it's not me," she continued as tears began to stream down her face.
"It is a good likeness, then. Do you accept that?" the garda asked.
"I do not know, how do I know?... what could I do with that?," she said, her voice trembling.
"And who else resides in your house, to which the passport was addressed?" the garda asked.
"Someone else, from Zimbabwe. Not friends," she said, curtly.
"And how long is it since they left?" the garda continued.
"I don't know. Maybe two weeks?" the girl said, beginning to calm down.
After hearing the lengthy and mostly unenlightening exchanges, the judge listened to the girl's solicitor's request that she be given bail on strict conditions.
"This is a serious charge of deception," the judge said. "I have to be of the view that I must refuse bail because I am not satisfied as to the true identity of the defendant."
There were no question marks, however, over the identity of a younger and locally well-known defendant earlier on in the day.
The 14-year-old's high-pitched voice could be heard in the high-ceilinged courtroom, but you could hardly see him.
Standing behind the wooden panelling and see-through plastic, which separates defendants from the rest of the courtroom, two gardaí towered over the boy, who wore a red tracksuit and a defiant scowl.
The boy, from a notorious housing estate in Limerick, was up for a range of offences. They ranged from mobile phone theft, stealing a car stereo and possessing a hammer while in the car-park of Limerick train station.
Despite his youth, he sounded self-assured as he told the judge he wanted the minor offences to be heard before the Children's Court in Limerick rather than a jury.
"These are pretty serious matters," Judge O'Donnell said. "Particularly in relation to breaking into cars and going after easy targets like cars parked in a railway station."
The judge adjourned the case for two weeks to see what options were available.
Outside the courtroom, the boy's solicitor, Mr Ted McCarthy, breathed a sigh of frustration at the lack of facilities for children. "There is no real money going into the area, because there are no votes in it. I would estimate that I see between 70 and 80 per cent of the kids here in the adult criminal justice system later on."