Nicola Sturgeon was one of the biggest political talents of her generation, with a steely determination and devotion to her work.
That's partly because she was emotionally driven and connected to a cause. And more than anything, perhaps, it's because she was an expert communicator - controlled, on top of her arguments, comfortable in the debating chamber, or on a visit to a school or hospital.
Whether during the pandemic, or during the years of Brexit screaming matches, she was feared by some other politicians, and grudgingly admired by many more.
Those skills always made her a tough but compelling person to sit down with as a journalist. She never expected an easy ride - nor would she make it easy for you. And she was never shy of questioning the very temerity of your questions, secure in her own power and authority despite not being adored by all Scottish voters.
So it was extraordinary to sit down with her this weekend to speak at length about the disaster of her estranged husband, Peter Murrell, embezzling from the party she used to lead.
Sturgeon had clearly marshalled her arguments before our conversation started. This could be seen in her refusal to be blamed as a woman for her husband's crimes, and her complete rejection of the suggestion that anyone had tried to raise concerns of financial wrongdoing with her before the police investigation, even though there was a clear pattern of worries being expressed.
It was striking to see up close the master communicator on the verge of tears on several occasions - having to pause and take a breath to keep her demeanour.
You might have been moved by her very obvious upset; her talk of trauma. Equally, you might not have believed her for a second, and thought she was hamming up her pain because it's all gone wrong.
At its heart, this is neither just a news story, nor just a major political scandal, but a saga of a relationship between a husband and wife that fell apart.
When she spoke about the necklace her husband had given her in Shetland, her hurt was tangible in the room. When she told me Murrell has never given her a full explanation of what he did, that felt raw. When she spoke of the emotional toll it had taken on her, it felt real.
But when I pressed her on her actions, the party's accounts, or how she'd dealt with internal complaints, the familiar assertive Sturgeon returned - there was a flash of anger when I asked her if she would contribute to returning any of the cash from those who had donated to the party.
Sturgeon was emotional, but defiant in her repeated statements that she didn't know anything untoward - and must not take the blame for Murrell's crimes. She had been "exonerated" or "cleared", she repeated several times, because the police hadn't taken any action to charge her. But the authorities deciding not to press criminal charges is not the same as there being no mistakes or something awry.
Her many critics and political opponents do not feel she's given all the answers - cabinet minister Pat McFadden told me this morning there must be a public inquiry into exactly what happened.
Sturgeon has finally given her version of this extraordinary tale, but it will not be the last time that she is pressed to tell more.
She knows full well that not everyone watching or listening to her will believe her. But that security in her own power and authority has gone.
