Some of those in virtual attendance posted images of Mr Andrews photoshopped onto a portrait of Kim Jong-un. A child was heard asking for food in the background. Someone left music by pop idol Nicki Minaj blaring in the background. One woman logged on from bed,another questioned whether the hearing had been faked.

On the web link,court staff battled to mute those causing chaos. In the real world,muting the protesters is far more difficult. That didn’t stop one Myrtleford resident from trying.

Just after 8.30am,when the crowd of protesters was barely larger than a dozen people and huddled near a black van emblazoned with QAnon conspiracy theories and links to websites,a local woman,probably in her 50s and seemingly dressed for work,approached them.

“Conspiracy theory nut jobs,” she yelled at the group. “You’re the ones ruining the world. You crazy morons. You’re so arrogant,and you think you’re above everyone else.”

“And you’re so judgmental,” one shot back.

The woman’s feelings were mirrored by others in the small regional town,about 30 to 40 minutes from Wangaratta,not far from where Mr Andrews spent his formative years.

A small business owner who did not want his name published toldThe Age the episode was “embarrassing”. Others carried on with their day and tried to ignore it.

While most protests in the past 20 months have questioned the legitimacy of public health policy responses like lockdowns and vaccination mandates,the pandemic was only occasionally mentioned by speakers in Myrtleford on Friday.

While organisers of the movement have seen their support swell,they have enjoyed very few victories in politics or law.

Immediately after the case was tossed out by Mr Dunn,an organiser took to the microphone:“They just threw it out,we have to start all over again.”

Nobody seemed surprised.

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