It was raining in Alice Springs on Wednesday morning when a larger-than-usual group of news crews gathered on the footpath outside the coroner's court.
WARNING: This article contains offensive language heard in court and the image of an Aboriginal person who has died, with the permission of their family.
"The gate to the car park around the side is open, they might sneak him in," one journalist called out.
The pack split up, eyes — and cameras — watching every direction. Competing news networks banded together for maximum coverage.
When he was on trial in Darwin almost nine months ago, charged with the murder of 19-year-old Kumanjayi Walker, Constable Zachary Rolfe strolled confidently across town to the Supreme Court each morning for five weeks straight.
Despite facing the possibility of life in prison, he remained stoic and calm — surrounded by friends, family, supporters, and his legal team.
He barely paid attention to the TV cameras and photographers who followed him to the door every day.
Once inside, he would even give the regular court reporters a smile and a friendly "good morning".
His arrival at the coronial inquest into the police shooting couldn't have been more different.
"We're on," a cameraman yelled to the group when a white ute stopped in the middle of the road, metres from the doors to the court.
The media pack is often referred to as "vultures" and on Wednesday, Constable Zachary Rolfe was confronted with a flock of them.
"Constable, what have you made of the inquest so far?"
"Is there anything you'd like to say to the family of Kumanjayi Walker?"
"How does it feel to be back in Alice Springs?"
Unsurprisingly, the officer frowned and said nothing as cameras blocked his short path to court.
Once inside, he was whisked away until it was time to take the stand.
Returning to the witness box
It wasn't Constable Rolfe's first time in a witness box.
On trial, he was confident and conversational as he methodically explained his decisions to a jury that held his future in their hands.
Now acquitted of all criminal charges, and under examination by counsel assisting the coroner Dr Peggy Dwyer, Constable Rolfe had no one he needed to impress.
"Were you taught [in the Army] to show respect for culture?"
"Some aspects."
"What aspects?"
"Aspects that should be respected."
He gave polite but short answers about his military career and police training until his lawyer, Luke Officer, started fidgeting in his seat.
A question from counsel assisting about a text message that referenced "c**ns" prompted a nod from Mr Officer at the bar table.
One of Constable Rolfe's fourteen objections had been triggered.
"I wish to exercise my right and claim the penalty privilege on the basis my answers might tend to expose me to a penalty," he said.
Everyone in the courtroom knew it was coming. His lawyers launched Supreme Court action a week ago in anticipation of this moment.
Less than an hour after he started giving evidence, the officer at the centre of the inquest into Kumanjayi Walker's death had given all he was willing to.
His lawyer launched into an hours-long argument, telling the court Constable Rolfe should not be compelled to answer questions that could lead to disciplinary action against him by the police force.
Lawyers for NT Police told the court most of the disciplinary issues had been "finalised", but Mr Officer argued there was a chance they could be re-opened based on Constable Rolfe's evidence.
At the end of the day, NT coroner Elisabeth Armitage excused Constable Rolfe from giving further evidence until his penalty privilege case is heard in the Supreme Court.
A two-day hearing is scheduled in Darwin next week, but it's unlikely a decision will be made on the spot.
Relief, for now, for Constable Rolfe.
Disappointment, for Mr Walker's family.
"He was the man that went to Yuendumu and did this, and so he needs to answer," said Mr Walker's mother, Leeanne Oldfield.
"He should tell the truth."
In response to "extraordinarily unhelpful" comments made outside court by members of Mr Walker's family, Mr Officer told the coroner his client had done "nothing more, nothing less" than assert his right to silence.
A historic visit to Yuendumu
The idea of "truth-telling" was central to the 300-kilometre journey taken by coroner Elizabeth Armitage and the entire pack of lawyers involved in the inquest this week.
In the days after the Warlpiri-Luritja man was shot by Constable Rolfe in Yuendumu in 2019, the police station was covered in red painted handprints — a symbol of the community's grief and anger.
Three years later, Judge Armitage noticed the faded stains when she sat on the same concrete slab outside the police station where Mr Walker's family had waited for updates about his condition on the night of the shooting.
"The walls were washed … did that make people feel sad?" she asked.
"They should have left the handprints there," said Derek Williams, an Aboriginal Community Police Officer who Kumanjayi Walker called "uncle".
Mr Williams told the small crowd gathered at the police station on Tuesday afternoon the community had felt deeply misunderstood and vilified by the media coverage of Mr Walker's life and death.
"We aren't aliens — we have two hands, two feet, red blood — we aren't from outer space, we are human beings," he said.
Inside the station, the coroner was taken to the cell where Mr Walker died three years earlier and watched as members of his family ceremonially swept the cell's concrete floor and wailed for their loved one.
Inside the Memory House
House 511, where the 19-year-old was shot, has become a mausoleum — not just to Mr Walker, but to a day the Yuendumu community was forced into the spotlight and a public battle to defend its home and culture.
In the front room of what is now known as Memory House, photos of Mr Walker are lit by candles and framed by an altar of wreaths and flowers. A T-shirt of his hangs on the wall.
One-by-one, each of the more than 20 lawyers involved in the inquest into Mr Walker's death, stepped inside the room they had all seen through the lens of Constable Rolfe's body-worn camera.
Their attitudes in court throughout the hearing have often been opposing, but at Memory House on a hot Monday morning the legal teams were united in the solemn reflection of what had happened there three years earlier.
Welcomed by senior Warlpiri women singing Mr Walker's songline and wailing in their grief, Judge Armitage and her counsel assisting held the hand of each of the women who raised Mr Walker.
Earlier, the lawyers were welcomed separately by the senior male leaders of Yuendumu before the entire community gathered for the first of several "truth-telling" meetings with the coroner.
"We feel that the Kardiya system has failed, if you want to know about our culture and how the Kardiya system has failed Kumanjayi Walker, today is important," elder Robin Granites said.
Kardiya 'interpretations' versus Yapa 'truths'
As well as seeing for herself the community she's heard so much about, Judge Armitage's trip to Yuendumu was an opportunity for Warlpiri people to explain the cultural practices that have formed the basis of much of the inquest's evidence.
"Sorry business", the coroner heard, was an English word for "mala mala" — the culturally significant period of mourning.
"It should not be interrupted," Warlpiri elder Ned Jampinjinpa Hargraves said, explaining that family members could face consequences if they did not take part in sorry business.
The coroner has heard Mr Walker escaped rehabilitation in November 2019 to attend his grandfather's funeral in Yuendumu, breaching a court order and leading to a warrant for his arrest.
"Cultural payback" has also featured heavily in the evidence before the inquest. The coroner heard that a fear of riots and payback against police on the night of the shooting fuelled the decision to keep Mr Walker's condition — and death — from members of his family.
"But culturally, payback doesn't happen straight away," Mr Walker's cousin Samara Fernandez Brown told the coroner.
"Payback is a very organised cultural ceremony, it's a gathering of the whole community … this has been happening forever," Mr Hargraves said.
"Payback" was another English translation, the coroner heard.
"Parumpurru" — meaning "justice" — was the Warlpiri word and in Yuendumu the cultural punishment for Mr Walker's death would be a "spear across the legs" of the officer who shot him.
"Deep in our hearts, deep in our minds … we want to see justice. We have not seen the blood of Zach Rolfe," Mr Hargraves said.
Mr Hargraves said the community would not be able to fully heal until Constable Rolfe faced cultural punishment.
On Friday, Constable Rolfe's lawyer reminded the coroner his client had been acquitted of all charges after a Supreme Court trial and said the conversations in Yuendumu created the impression that the appropriate response was to “resort to a level of violence".
“One could be forgiven for the impression that that leaves not only Constable Rolfe, but all police officers,” he said.
Two-and-a-half months in, the inquest has revealed two worlds at odds: Kardiya and Yapa. Western law and Warlpiri culture.
This week, beginning with Warlpiri people's voices being heard and ending with Constable Rolfe exerting the right not to use his, was perhaps the most significant one yet.
