Telegraf reporter's testimony: Brian Walshe gazed at me as gruesome details were read out in court

Telegraf.rs reporter Zorica Radulovic was in the courtroom among numerous international journalists when the evidence was read against Brian Walshe, who is accused of murdering Ana from Belgrade

They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul and that they reveal to us how a person's mind works.

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And what if the person watching you has no soul and what if their mind is deranged!? What is that look like?

I never asked myself such questions before, maybe because I have never met such people before, and maybe I was just running away from such looks.

But as it always happens, what you're running from eventually catches up with you.

That morning I set out on the most important task of my career so far: the reading of the indictment against Brian Walshe, for the murder of his wife Ana Walshe.

The mere fact that I would enter a courtroom and witness such an event, that I would be there among a hundred US media, in a country that was not mine, that I would see the suspect in a courtroom, upset me enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. Those same nerves that I had as a kid before taking a test.

But I thought, "my mother did not give birth to a coward. What could happen that's so terrible?!," I asked myself without suspecting that I would get the answer after only an hour in that courtroom.

In vain, my colleagues and editors from Belgrade encouraged me with messages that I had already done enough, that they were proud and that I should relax; I had a mission: I had to film Brian Walshe in front of the Quincy District Court.

I arrive in front of the courthouse where I find so many media that the trepidation becomes even greater. Reporters, lighting, cameras occupied the District Court in Quincy, but also me, lonely in the fact that there were none of "my people" there and that I am the only media representative from Serbia. But the tactic was: I'll do as they do. I followed in the footsteps of my colleagues from the US who were slowly gathering at the front door of the court.

"He has arrived. They brought him to the court. Let's go inside," shouted one of the colleagues. What's it like inside, what's the procedure of getting in, will I be able to take a picture of Brian? Again and again I ask myself questions to which I do not know the answer and which deepen my anxiety. Putting pressure on myself is, by the way, my favorite sport.

Somehow I managed to get into the building and don't ask me how, because I don't know myself, but I got in. Immediately after entering, I aimed for a seat in the third row to be as close as possible to the prosecutor so that I could hear him as well as possible, but still sufficiently far away not to attract attention.

And it begins. Brian Walshe appears in front of the judge and the prosecutor, who begins to read the evidence that the police obtained during the investigation, which was sufficient for the indictment to be raised.

There's dead silence in the courtroom. Only the horrible charges are heard, that literally make one's blood run cold. Shock and disbelief on the faces of everyone present.

Only in the gaze of one man you could see the absolute absence of emotion and empathy. Brian Walshe watched the prosecutor read the charges with a blank expression, showing no interest.

In one point, an unexpected shock. A cutting sensation in the stomach. He shot me an icy look.

Brian Walshe and I, face to face.

It seemed like an eternity. My heart pounded.

Suddenly, the answer to the question from the beginning of the article arrives: what is the look of a deranged person without a soul like?

Scary, cold, disturbing. Creepy enough to make you regret being in the same room with him at all.

I looked away after only a few seconds. But the feeling remained.

Bitter.

One can only see well with the heart.

A Telegraf.rs portal journalist is in Boston to report from the field on the latest developments regarding the search for Ana Walshe from Belgrade, whose husband has been accused of murdering her. None of the material from Boston published here can be reprinted without the permission of the editors of the Telegraf.rs portal

(Telegraf.rs)