His feelings for Sunny changed in different lights. They had been happy early on and had a daughter, Cosima, whom he adored. He and Sunny fell out because she did not like him working; she did not mind his mistresses, as long as he was discreet. In sum she was a fair and decent human being who would, he thought, have been his strongest defender.
He wore his wedding ring at the trials, though he had to get it back from Ms Isles. He spoke of wanting to visit Sunny, who lay comatose for 28 years until she died, but he moved to London by agreement with the step children, giving up too any claim to her fortune. In Knightsbridge his life revolved round amusing dinner parties, theatre reviewing and quiet acts of charity. He complained that "Reversal of Fortune", a film of his trials made in 1990, did not tell the truth in dozens of small ways. He did not say what the truth actually was.
In the end, the film had left the verdict open. He preferred to be seen as he generally was in London, as the victim of a miscarriage of justice. He did not make that claim himself; he had agreed not to mention the case. Instead, he saw it as a tragedy that satisfied "all of Aristotle's definitions". Everyone was wounded. As for him, he was a tragic hero straight out of the "Poetics": neither a villain nor a virtuous man, but someone in between. His misfortune had occurred not because of depravity, but by some error, some ambiguous action. It was hardly surprising that there could be no catharsis.