Vicky Pryce and Chris Huhne: brought to justice at last in a tragedy of their own making Throughout the three hours they were in court together it was the same. Reunited at last, in the bleakest of circumstances, the two divorcees sat in the dock, four feet apart, each acting as if the other were absent. Miss Pryce - dressed in grey rollneck jumper, black jacket and thin, dangling earrings - had entered the dock first, just before 2pm. When, 20 seconds later, her former husband entered, she did not look up; she continued staring dead ahead, as if wholly alone. Taking his seat to her left, he glanced across at her: still she stared dead ahead. He averted his eyes, smoothed his hair with affected nonchalance - then glanced across at her again. Still she ignored him. He could have crashed a pair of cymbals an inch from her ear and she wouldn't have flinched. After one more glance in vain, the former Energy Secretary gave up, and instead surveyed the courtroom. He was dressed in dark blue tie, black suit, glasses; his hair was trimmed as neatly as a suburban lawn. But his skin looked tired and grey. To the right of the dock, arms folded, sat Carina Trimingham, the press agent for whom Mr Huhne had left Miss Pryce - the action that drove Miss Pryce to vengeance, vengeance that would ultimately send both Miss Pryce and Mr Huhne to jail. Vengeance that led her to report his crime to the newspapers while seeking to cover up her own involvement. Vengeance that destroyed his political career. Vengeance that led to the exposure in court of their misery: the misery of their marriage, their divorce, and the pain inflicted on their children. The original crimes - speeding and point-swapping - may seem minor. But in the wreckage those crimes have left behind lie a dead marriage, a humiliated family, and shattered careers. British politics has seen countless scandals. But never one quite as abject as this. Notably, Miss Trimingham had chosen the only available seat that obscured both her own view of Miss Pryce and Miss Pryce's view of her. Having arrived at Southwark Crown Court in a startlingly ostentatious coat, as red as a judge's robe, she was now all in black. Her countenance was a grim as an Easter Island statue's. The judge arrived; the court sat. Andrew Edis QC, the prosecutor, summarised the crime of Mr Huhne - who, on February 4, just as his trial was due to begin, had pleaded guilty. Precisely 10 years ago tomorrow (just one of this case's novelistic ironies), Mr Huhne drove at 69mph in a 50mph zone; at that moment, Miss Pryce, his then wife, was at an event at the London School of Economics. To save him from losing his licence, she agreed to take his speeding points. As the prosecutor went on, for most of the time the two defendants sat with heads bowed. Whether this was in sorrow, or merely part of their efforts to avoid looking at each other, it was impossible to say. Now and again Mr Huhne would look up. Sometimes he would raise both eyebrows, as if politely feigning interest in a not especially interesting anecdote about a forgotten acquaintance. At other times he would sit rigidly with head tilted back, as if balancing an invisible 50 pence coin on the tip of his nose. But still his face betrayed no emotion - even during references to his wretched exchange of text messages with his son Peter. Miss Pryce's barrister, Julian Knowles QC, pleaded for leniency, and described the grief she'd suffered as a result of her marriage break-up. Miss Trimingham stared stonily from beneath her long dark hood of hair. John Kelsey-Fry QC spoke in mitigation for Mr Huhne. Pleading guilty had "taken a deal of courage." Mr Kelsey-Fry read references extolling the virtues of Mr Huhne's character, including one from the godmother of the defendants" youngest child. Miss Pryce, said this reference, was Mr Huhne's "intellectual equal" and he had always been "proud of her." Miss Pryce grimaced. Mr Kelsey Fry added that Mr Huhne "refutes in the most strenuous terms" Miss Pryce's allegations that he bullied her into having an abortion. Mr Huhne's face was growing longer and greyer. At 4pm the judge retired to consider sentencing; he would return, he said, "not before 4.30." At 4.30 the defendants were back in the dock (again arriving separately and without sharing a glance). The minutes ticked by. Still the judge did not appear. For the former couple, these long minutes may have been the most excruciating of all. Not only were they about to learn their fate; they were having to sit side by side, in a sealed glass box, with no distractions but a silent courtroom. Finally, after the longest 15 minutes of their lives, Mr Justice Sweeney returned. Mr Huhne, he declared, had "tried to lie [his] way out of trouble." Miss Pryce, he declared, no less damningly, had "a controlling, manipulative, devious side." Having received their sentences, the two turned in opposite directions to gather their coats and be led away. Ahead of both lay months of imprisonment. But they would at least be free of each other.