How a stunned courtroom watched as Ghislaine Maxwell took the stand for the first time

As Ghislaine Maxwell shuffled inelegantly across the room, shackles around her ankles, the court fell quiet but for a CLUNK, CLUNK, CLUNK.

“That noise!,” gasped Christopher Mason, a former friend of Maxwell’s from her New York high-society days, who was seated next to me in the public gallery of the Thurgood Marshall federal courthouse. Victims of Maxwell and boyfriend Jeffrey Epstein looked at each other and smirked in a shared acknowledgement of the British heiress’s completed fall from grace.

Even during her four-week sex-trafficking trial it was hard to think of Ghislaine as a prisoner. In her own neatly pressed clothes and freshly coiffed hair, laughing as she drank from her lawyers’ Starbucks coffee, the 60-year-old had an impossibly easy manner for someone facing the possibility of life behind bars.

But there she was on Tuesday, in blue scrubs and chains, squinting through her prison-issued glasses. Suddenly it was undeniable.

Her sentencing, which drew throngs of onetime acquaintances, journalists, and enquiring members of the public to the Lower Manhattan courthouse, brought a measure of resolution to a lurid case whose victims have waited decades for justice.

The day was an emotional one. After Maxwell was seated, victims took turns to read their impact statements - some for the first time in open court.

Between sobs Sarah Ransome, a South African-born British survivor of the couple, told the court how her abuse had left her suffering from “extreme symptoms of anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, PTSD, and tendencies to self-harm.”

“I will sometimes start crying uncontrollably and without apparent reason,” she said, dabbing her nose with a scrunched-up tissue.

"And despite my earnest effort, I have never married and do not have children, something I always wished for, even as a little girl.”

After her came Elizabeth Stein, who recalled being “assaulted and raped countless times” during a three-year period after Epstein and Maxwell lured her into their sex trafficking ring by “seizing upon her vulnerability".

Ms Ransome and Ms Stein, who had not met before the December trial, held hands as the others took their turn at the lectern. Ms Ransome kissed Ms Stein on the top of her head as she got up to speak. The victims, Ms Ransome told me, had formed a bond through their shared trauma.

"It just feels like I've known her for years."

Maxwell stared straight ahead, unmoved, through most of the testimony, turning her head just once to look at Ms Ransome, the only survivor not to testify at trial.

Ms Ransome returned the glance - for she had come to look her “tormentor” in the eye.

Then it was the defence’s turn.

In a theatrical flourish, Maxwell’s attorney Bobbi Sternheim, who established a reputation as a fierce cross-examiner during the trial, turned to face the public gallery.

“I hope you don’t mind, your honour,” she addressed Judge Alison Nathan.

“I want to acknowledge these women’s courage in coming forward.

“We feel your pain,” she said, contorting the microphone.

“We can only hope it will bring you solace.”

“I know that what we hear today doesn’t beg sympathy. But (Ghislaine) lived the entirety of her life under clouds that cast a dark shadow,” she said, referring to Maxwell’s purportedly troubled childhood with press baron father Robert.

A third victim, Annie Farmer, shook her head indignantly as Ms Sternheim pleaded mitigating circumstances for the socialite, whom the court heard holds citizenships to three countries and enjoyed a life of incredible privilege.

The courtroom was stunned when the defendant herself then decided to take the stand. “Does Ms Maxwell wish to speak?” Judge Nathan asked, before Ms Sternehim signalled that she did.

Much behaviour and motive has been ascribed to a silent Maxwell since her arrest two years ago. Many column inches dedicated to trying to understand why she did what she did. And, more importantly, whether she had any remorse.

Standing at the lectern, she acknowledged “the pain and the anguish” of the victimised women who had addressed the court. But she stopped short of apologising or accepting responsibility for her crimes.

Until that moment, Maxwell had not even acknowledged her victims, let alone the immense suffering she caused them. Ms Ransome broke down in tears. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, others looked away as Maxwell spoke on in her clipped British accent.

In the front row, as is customary in criminal proceedings, was the defendant’s family: brother Kevin, twin sisters Isabel and Christine, and longtime friend and legal adviser Leah Saffian. Notably absent was Ian, the family’s communicator in chief.

They displayed the characteristic Maxwell family stoicism. Ghislaine made a point of apologising to them for the shame she had brought them.

“I acknowledge the pain this case has brought my family,” she said in her address. “It torments me every day.”

Unlike during the trial, Maxwell seemed not to seek comfort from the siblings. With just a nod of recognition and a quick glance back, the youngest Maxwell shuffled out the door to her fate. A woman shamed, but unrepentant.