It has been a month of two courts.

Three weeks ago the Judiciary announced Nazanin’s second court case was reopened. A week later one of her cellmates was suddenly sentenced for 10 years, her job in the UK also turned into loud spying claims.

In the ward, it was a shock of disbelief. For Nazanin, it revived the old nightmares of the court room.

At her first trial, Nazanin had not been allowed to speak. The Judge argued it was more efficient if she stayed silenced – just noted any defence. Before she shared that defence with her lawyer, it was reviewed by her interrogator with her blindfolded, him shouting she will never leave. When her lawyer later presented that appeal, a legal case was also opened against him.

Our second case was famously justified publicly using the then Foreign Secretary’s words. Privately Nazanin was not shown the file against her. The Prosecutors Office told her family it was illegal. When the Judge read Nazanin the charges, he had tears in his eyes.

The case was suddenly closed then revived again. A court date was set, then unset. Nazanin’s new lawyer was refused, as not on their approved list. These days Nazanin has a number of ‘unapproved’ lawyers as cellmates.

First case we were outraged this was so unfair: the secret charges, the false and repeated ‘evidence’ ignoring Iran’s own laws, the judge awaiting orders.

By now I don’t bother resenting. The unfairness seems the point.

Iran’s legal system is not about justice, but punishment – with operatic effect: its high notes of spying claims, the announcement of sentences while the prisoner and family remain quiet, often even before they know, the broadcast of arrest – to scare anyone else going through the airport – we are watching you, we are watching everyone.

Externally, court cases advertise an arrest, parading people as criminals. The point is to make some noise. The Head of the Prison confided last year: Nazanin’s is a made up case. Framing a mother with baby on holiday always was aimed to be impossible to ignore.

Yet Tehran Revolutionary Court is not the only secret court case in our story. There is another case, at the London Admiralty Court, now in its 18th year. It concerns debts the UK owes Iran from government arms trading, at its most buccaneering in the 1970s and 80s.

This court case kept very secret, not much mentioned on the BBC. It is the part of our story most muted out. The government refused to tell even Parliament what day it was.

But we are danced to its tune. Our story seems full of crazy, discordant notes – until you realise that it is actually a conversation of back and forth trials. Those spy songs never were about Nazanin. They were always singing through her. Such is our life as a percussion instrument.

Back in June 2016 we got our first message that Iran would hold Nazanin until the government reached agreement. It followed a London court hearing that May.

After a London hearing in October 2017, we had that second case amplified by Boris Johnson’s words. When reports in the newspapers subsequently promised “no stone unturned”, and Ministers would resolve the debt, our court case got dropped. Iran confirmed it closed to the UN.

We live in an era of drumbeat politics – grand promises hollow on the air. Promises can have reverberations, even if unnoticed by the music hall.

Last Spring, there was a stand-off over interest, and the London hearing was postponed - for 9 months - until  January 2019. Three more British Iranians were arrested. Nazanin was brought back to court. She was told plainly. No payment, no release. Others became part of the percussion set.

Last month the London court came round again. Ahead of it, Nazanin’s second case was announced as reopened. Another innocent person was sentenced to 10 years.

But when the hearing was held, a newspaper lifted the secrecy. https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/nazanin-zaghari-ratcliffes-freedom-depends-on-400m-payment-to-tehran-05rj6flx7

We got to see the court papers: it is a money fight – over £20 million, or three years in the currency of our lives. The blue pill no more.

All governments keep secrets, have reasons for encouraging their citizens to keep quiet. In politics it is the silences that often matter most, what goes without saying because that’s how it comes.

But justice cannot be mute. We are all diminished by secret courts.

For years the UK government emphasised the legal veneer in Nazanin’s case, often more than Iran’s Judiciary. It seemed its own kind of silencing: the government would not criticise Iran’s legal process, dampened the talk of her innocence, suggested to Parliament the facts were unclear. Privately, the Foreign Office even told us we had to understand that Nazanin was a criminal in Iran’s eyes.

Do you solve a problem by suppressing it? Should songs of right and wrong be kept in the minor key?

Two years ago a lovely community choir made the video above: “Nazanin is not free to sing, so we will sing for her.” Her family reminded me of it last week when feeling hoarse, that others keep singing - for those without voices but who can still hear.

The lesson of our two courts? Despite the slogans and secrets and suppressing songs, freedom is in the singing. The song for tomorrow is kept alive in the singing today, the singing shared. Beyond prison, that is how it is to be free.

Your songs to their ears.