Knox, then, does not intend to disappear, saying this week in response to those who suggest that she changes her name: “My name is not wrong, they’re wrong about me.”

“I am not Foxy Knoxy,” she insists – and it is this misinterpretation of her character that she wants to see off. The nickname, unearthed on her social media profile by a reporter, dated back to childhood and, she has always insisted, was given to her because of her wily skills as a footballer.

Either way, her rhyming epithet was irresistible to headline writers, and has come to define her in the public eye. In Britain it marked her out as a vamp; in Italy it was even more damaging, as the public associated it with fox-like cunning, the sort that would course through the veins of a murderer.

“The prosecution and the media crafted a story, and a doppelgänger version of me, onto which people could affix all their uncertainties, fears and moral judgments. People liked that story: the psychotic man-eater, the dirty ice queen, Foxy Knoxy,” she has said. Strangers who sent her lingerie and love letters were, she adds, taken in by the “cardboard cut out” character. 

“Amanda’s out of prison, but she’s not out of the prison of public vilification,” her husband, Robinson, has explained.

Rudy Guede is the only person who knows what happened that night, but he says he “just wants to be forgotten”. 

Unlike Amanda Knox, he is likely to be granted his wish.

Additional reporting by Claudia Rowan