Listening to Denis Glennon, speaking of justice finally being delivered for his daughter, Ciara will sit with me for years to come. I just keep thinking about how hard she fought to save her life, capturing the DNA under her fingernails which would help bring about that justice

And I think about when I was attacked, how I couldn't stop thinking I needed to make sure I scratched, so if I couldn't save my life, I'd have at least given investigators a forensic clue, just as my dad taught me. And then I think about how many women have had those thoughts.

And I think of the girls I saw trying on boots for a night out, who loved them, but casually remarked they couldn't run in them "if they really needed to". And the girls who pretended to know me when they saw a man following me as I walked home, to let me know of the danger

I think of all of that and more and the grief in Denis Glennon's eyes, as he talks of how his daughter fought. And how many women still have to fight. And I don't know what the answer is, but I do know it weighs heavily on me, at times making me stumble. Sending love to all.