Two sisters, three close friends, six firefighters, two electricians, a pair of school secretaries, a receptionist, a hairdresser and the local parish priest.
Court No 3 at the Central Criminal Court was not a place to catch breath yesterday, as a procession of more than 20 witnesses wended their way through the ordeal of giving evidence before an ever-swelling crowd.
Already the trial has taken on its rhythms and patterns. As legal teams assemble the mosaic of the days leading up to Siobhán Kearney's death, the McLaughlin parents and siblings sit motionless in the third row of seats, their eyes trained inscrutably on the witness box.
The women wear black. Owen, Siobhán's father and the first to find her body, keeps his arms folded, his head tilted slightly to see through the heads in front. Alone among his family, every so often he casts an eye towards the accused.
Reactions come subtly. Siobhán's brother Owen cracked his knuckles, one by one, as paramedic John Fitzgerald told of the position of Siobhán's body when he found it - "rolled in towards the wardrobe in almost a recovery or a foetal position."
Brian Kearney keeps his body turned constantly towards the bench. Only occasionally yesterday did he turn towards the public gallery and then only to swap a word with one of his brothers or his daughter.
The court heard from a friend of Siobhán that she and Mr Kearney were having difficulties in their marriage. Carol Summers, a friend for 20 years, said she met Siobhán at Peploes Wine Bar on St Stephen's Green a week before her death. "She was in great form but she was missing her wedding rings."
Ms Summers assumed she had just left the rings off.
Philomena Daly, who worked part-time at the Citizens' Advice Centre in Dundrum, told the court a woman who gave her name as Siobhán Kearney had phoned on February 27th - the day before she died - looking to see someone about a legal separation.
Much of the evidence continues to focus on the day after that phone call. Sgt Charlie McConalogue, a family friend of the McLaughlins, found it difficult to retain his garda's formality in describing the "great devastation" he found in the kitchen at Carnroe that morning.
At one point, he said, one of Mr Kearney's brothers came in to fill a kettle, but Aisling asked him to leave the room. "There was a lot of anger in the room, and also great sadness. The people there were extremely upset."
Dressed in a long black overcoat and inflecting each syllable with deliberate care, Aisling McLaughlin rewound the tape back to 1989. That was the year she first met the accused - at the "afters" of her own wedding.
Siobhán and Brian got engaged about 1995, but split up and broke off the engagement in the same year. Siobhán moved to Clontarf, where she lived in a rented house for three years.
Siobhán and Brian later reunited and married in January 2002, six months before their son was born. The couple bought a boutique hotel in Spain - Hotel Salvia - in March 2003.
Aisling, too, spoke of the weeping and screaming at the house in Goatstown on February 28th. What did she say to Mr Kearney when he arrived, asked prosecuting counsel Denis Vaughan Buckley? "I told him to get out, but my mother told me to stop."
Aisling also told the jury that Siobhán had admitted herself voluntarily to St John of God's for two weeks in December 1999. It was due to stress caused by overwork, Aisling said. She had not been living with Mr Kearney for a number of years at this time.
In response, defence counsel Patrick Gageby interjected to say it was "quite incorrect", then, for anyone to suggest to the jury that Siobhán was in St John of God's because of the "stress of living with Brian Kearney".
"All I know is what I know," Aisling replied.
