In November this year I was hosting a group fishing in Panama. It was still dark one morning when I found my way to the lodge’s voluminous coffee pot, poured myself a steaming cup of that life-sustaining brew, and settled down to quietly check emails and social media before setting off for the day’s fishing. Life was good, I had received nothing that couldn’t wait until I returned home, but then my scrolling finger was stopped dead in its tracks. A notification from Dorset Police requested information about recent sightings of Nick Fisher, who had unexplainably gone missing. The following morning I opened my iPad to be greeted with the gut-wrenching news that Nick’s body had been
