The image was of two young girls, who had barely escaped their teens, munching on doughnuts and nervously glancing at the camera, giggling occasionally, a strained smile bearing witness to the stress and anxiety of the moment.
As they scoffed their doughnuts like hungry children, I was reminded of just how young the girls were, just children, children who had not yet realised the depth of their plight, children for whom the gravity of the situation had not yet sunk in.
Melissa Reid, of Lenzie, and Michaella McCollum, from Northern Ireland, were this week, charged with trying to smuggle 24lbs of cocaine with a value of £1.5million, from Peru to Spain.
Both girls are now 20 years old and were arrested while attempting to board a flight from Lima to Madrid.
The Prosecutor's Office near Lima confirmed that, if found guilty, they would face a prison sentence of 15 years and not the seven years widely reported by the press.
It is anticipated that both girls will enter not guilty pleas and as a consequence, if bail is refused, will probably spend up to three years in a Peruvian prison, awaiting trial.
Peru, not Columbia, is now the world's biggest exporter of drugs, an industry the Peruvian Government has promised to close down.
Melissa and Michaella claim that they were forced, against their will, and with a gun pointed to their heads, to agree to smuggle the drugs by an organised crime gang.
The plausibility of the girls' defence and the voracity of their explanation is being publicly challenged.
Each day brings a fresh revelation. Revelations of alleged cocaine parties at their apartment, of photographs, allegedly taken in Peru, of the girls sunbathing with drinks, on the beach.
Perhaps most damaging, CCTV images of the girls in Lima walking and behaving normally, at a time when they specifically stated they were being held at gunpoint.
The girls are however, innocent. They remain innocent until proven otherwise by a court of law and we would do well not to draw conclusions without the benefit of the full facts.
The two girls were enjoying a working holiday on the Spanish island of Ibiza, an island which welcomes 2.5 million tourists each year, 700,000 British.
Ibiza is recognised as the "clubbing capital" of the world, the place which invented "the rave".
Its bars and cubs are open virtually all night and its liberal licensing laws underscore a culture of widespread drug use and seedy hedonism.
It is in this environment that many of our children aspire to be. It's an environment of permissiveness, of freedom, and many find it so compulsive, they harbour the ambition of living there.
For many, the process of turning fantasy into reality proves expensive, and living the dream remains the preserve of the few.
At home in Lenzie, Melissa's parents, William and Debra have the anguish of their daughter's plight etched upon their faces.
A lovely house in a lovely suburb, a nice normal family and now this.
How would any of us who are parents deal with this?
They have conducted themselves with dignity and candour and this week William conceded that the trip to Peru will probably be the annual family holiday from now on.
It is natural that our children look at us and see the past, and that we look upon them as the future, yet our hopes for our children must continue to outweigh our fears.
A TRIAL will determine whether Melissa did anying wrong. William and Debra didn't, yet their love for their daughter remains unqualified.
Melissa's pain remains their pain for as long as it takes.
I look again, at the young girls munching doughnuts, and find it hard to contemplate how one action, one moment, has the ability to cause life to be altered so fundamentally.
It leaves us to reflect upon the fragility of our own lives, those moments which forever change direction, and define our future.
The joys of Melissa's childhood remain secret to William and Debra... their fears must remain so too.