The press pack surged, desperate to capture the first image or utterance of the woman who has captivated Australia for nine years, Schapelle Corby.
Police had formed a line to allow the convicted drug smuggler space to make the three or four metres from Kerobokan's prison door to the waiting, army green corrections van.
The throng of media - about 50 or 60 strong - heaved.
The police - maybe 20 officers - pushed back. One hunkered down and tackled a journalist around the waist in an attempt to clear room for the van to leave.
It was a mass of sweaty bodies, and cameras in 30 degree heat.
Under lights and sirens, the van sped its high-profile passenger to the prosecutor's office at Denpasar.
On arrival, yet more media crowded around the van's door but she was helped out by police, her face shielded by a hat and veil, and scrambled into the building.
As Corby was interviewed and fingerprinted in a small office, reporters pressed against the door, straining to hear her speak.
With her face as a free woman still unseen by the world, photographers used cameras mounted on poles to peer into the frosted glass above.
Sensing her chaotic exit was close, public servants rushed to move ornaments in glass cases from the foyer.
A reporter had already been trampled on Corby's way in, and they didn't want any more breakages on the way out.
Corby's next stop was the corrections office, where police and media shoved as the new parolee, still obscuring her face, tried to get inside for more procedural matters.
For what seemed like minutes, it was all pushing and swelling around her.
Finally, Corby and her police retinue broke through the press.
She had taken her final steps to freedom.
