The woman is wearing a green tracksuit, her greasy blonde hair is messily tied up in a bun, and she has dark circles under her eyes.
Sitting in a remand centre, she appears to swallow a sob when the NSW Supreme Court is told her sister has vowed to look after her if she is freed on bail.
That way, the woman will live in Newcastle, far from western Sydney where she has become tangled up in drugs and violent crime. She will also be able to see her four children, who are living with her father and stepmother, while she awaits trial.
"Her sister is an impressive young lady who has achieved much in her short life and I have no doubt that her expressions of willingness to supervise the applicant are given earnestly and honestly," Justice Geoffrey Bellew says, while the woman listens through an audio-visual link to the court.
The woman, whose blotchy skin and fatigued expression age her beyond her 26 years, exhales as the judge reads a list of strict conditions she must abide by when released.
Just as the woman hears her fate, a man in the back row of the public gallery in courtroom 11A falls deeply asleep, and is snoring loudly.
"Oh no, sorry," the well-dressed man says with a bemused smile when he is woken by a stranger.
The NSW Supreme Court deals with a long list of bail applications every day, and judges have to quickly consider the strength of an accused person's case, if they pose an "unacceptable risk", whether they've "shown cause" for release, and how long they've been in custody.
Accused people usually apply to the higher court for bail because it has been refused by a local court magistrate, or if they are suffering in custody in an exceptional way.
While serious, bail hearings do not have the same formal atmosphere as other criminal court proceedings, and judges forego the regalia of a wig and heavy red robe. Justice Bellew wears a business suit and a bright tie with a matching pocket square poking out of his jacket.
Beyond legal principles, and the often hotly-debated topic of bail, judges and lawyers seem freer to show their empathetic and human sides.
Andrew Sampson, awaiting sentence on armed robbery and assault charges
Sampson appears on the court's television screen, representing himself and urgently applying to be released so he can go to his mother's funeral.
"My family tried to rearrange my mum's funeral and they couldn't come to a compromise. The funeral was held last Friday," he tells the court in a flat voice.
Sampson, 36, says he would still like to apply for release, but Justice Bellew carefully tells him it would be unfair for the hearing to go ahead because the Crown has documents Sampson has not seen.
A young solicitor from the Aboriginal Legal Service, Imogen Hogan, jumps up from her seat and says she can try to assist Sampson, having recently worked on his sister's case.
Justice Bellew takes a slightly extended morning adjournment, telling Ms Hogan it's enough time for her to read over Sampson's documents, and to take a decent break. Sampson's application is adjourned for a week.
Brendan James Smith, awaiting trial on child sexual assault
Smith appears from jail, anxiously shuffling his legal papers, as the court hears he has seen several inmates attempt suicide while in protective custody.
The judge is concerned that the police brief against Smith, charged with sexually assaulting a child in a toilet block at a playground, is incomplete nearly a year after his alleged crime.
His solicitor says investigators have only recently applied for DNA testing, in a case that otherwise relies on an identification of Smith as the child's attacker by a woman who last saw him at school 25 years ago.
"Police can't go about the preparation of briefs of evidence and just allow people to languish in custody at will," Justice Bellew says. "You can't just have people sitting in custody for months and months on end waiting for briefs to be served in a case which, though extremely serious, is not factually complex."
The 39-year-old is granted bail later in the week, effectively placed under house arrest, with the judge noting concerns about the weak prosecution case and investigators' delays.
A 41-year-old man, charged with sex offences
The next day, a woman wearing a bright shirt, a sparkly hair clip, and carrying a neon purple handbag is in court to support her brother.
"It's so quiet in here. I feel like I'm back at school," she says cheerily to no one in particular.
She nods and wipes away tears when the court hears her brother was once the primary carer for their ailing mother and the family has little outside support.
Her brother, listening in from custody, has a startled look permanently fixed on his face as the court hears he has no prior criminal record.
The sister's demeanour darkens when the judge points out her brother is charged with 30 counts of sexually or indecently assaulting his young daughter over several years.
"Bullshit," the woman says under her breath from the back of the court.
In refusing bail, Justice Bellew says: "This is not a case where if he is continued to be incarcerated his mother has no assistance open to her at all."
Troy William Barrett, charged with being an accessory to a serious crime
Barrett's parents have travelled from the state's far west to watch his bail application, and have offered up $50,000 in surety to be drawn from their rural property.
His mother, wearing a red jumper with shiny gold buttons down the back, and his father, in a suit, look up at their bedraggled son on the screen.
Barrett, 33, who has an excavation business in Hillston, is willing to live more or less under house arrest on his grandmother's remote property if he is granted bail.
He is accused of directing two people to do his "dirty work" and break into the house of his ex-girlfriend's new partner. The new partner, Barrett's former friend, was allegedly hit on the head with a rifle with enough force to snap the butt off the gun.
Justice Bellew denies bail, noting Barrett was once charged with a domestic violence offence.
After his parents quietly point out there has been some confusion in the facts of Barrett's case, they seem optimistic when the judge gives a revised decision. But their hopes are dashed again, and their son remains locked up.
Shane Michael Rennie, on dangerous and negligent driving charges
After lunch, Rennie appears on screen, the picture of a Hollywood villain, with a slicked back ponytail, wearing prison greens, and a large leather eye patch. Tacked to the wall behind him is a laminated sign saying "Long Bay".
Rennie's story is not about good or evil.
The court hears he suffers from a syndrome that affects his nerves and turns one eye inward, a condition that might explain the string of driving offences he faces.
Rennie has been attacked in jail, and is now in Long Bay prison hospital with a broken leg, relying on a wheelchair. He had brain surgery in 1995, and his eye condition needs the attention of a specialist.
The 49-year-old is very unlikely to be able to get behind the wheel of a car in this state, his solicitor says.
Justice Bellew grants bail, noting his risk of reoffending is now very low. Soon after, the judge adjourns for the day.
Families and onlookers wander out of court and disperse in the hallway, free to take the lift and walk out into the winter sun.