The judge's ruling provided, if not closure, then at least the end of a significant chapter in a saga that has spanned some 30 years.

But for one person, the sentencing must have elicited a somewhat different emotion.

For while the jury found Hughes guilty of 10 child sex offences last month, they were unable to reach a verdict in relation to an 11th charge.

This charge relates to a woman who says she was sexually abused by Hughes in 1988, while she was on work experience at the business of his de facto partner, Robyn Gardiner.

Giving evidence during Hughes' six-week trial, the woman, now in her early 40s, said Hughes became interested in her while she was working at the Surry Hills actors' agency, and, on one occasion, kissed her on the mouth after dropping her home.

The actor allegedly continued to pursue the teenager, telling her: “We have taken this as far as we can go. You need to find a place to have sex because I'm far too old to have sex in a bush.”

She alleges she told him: “I'm 15. I'm still under the age of consent.”

Months later, on her 16th birthday, the woman said she received a dozen red roses with a card signed "RH".

Hughes denied the allegations, and the jury was unable to agree on whether the abuse had occurred.

It meant she was unable to provide a victim impact statement with the four other women involved in Hughes' trial.

She has now spoken out for the first time, writing an open letter to Hughes (below) to express how she feels about what she says happened, and revealing her personal experience of a saga conducted in the glare of publicity.

An open letter to Robert Hughes

Dear Robert,

I wasn't in court the day you were found guilty of those first nine sex offences. I didn't see your tears or hear your protests. I was at home when the police called with the news. I cried, too, but no one saw my tears of relief and joy.

I was in the public gallery the next day, when the jury was discharged without reaching a verdict on the charge relating to me. I was there but I didn't see you then, either. I was sitting in the wrong place to catch a glimpse of your face.

No one saw my tears that day because I shed none. I didn't get the personal vindication of a guilty verdict, but I'd had my day in court. And four other brave women had proved your paedophilia beyond a doubt.

Because the jury did not convict you of the charge relating to me, I am not your victim officially. I'm not officially anything, really, since they didn't acquit you, either. Unless they run another trial with a new jury, no one will ever know if you are innocent or guilty of that charge. No one, except you and me.

And since the court does not recognise me as your victim, I'm not entitled to make a Victim Impact Statement before you are sentenced. I have some things to say to you but I can't say them to your face in court. I guess I'll say them here instead.

It was both easy and very difficult for me to come forward to the police in 2010, when the allegations against you first became public. It was easy because my only goal was to protect your victims. It was very difficult because I was a victim of other horrendous sex crimes, quite unrelated to you, when I was a teenager.

Initially, I chose not to tell the police about those other crimes. I was afraid it would damage my credibility with the police or jeopardise the case against you. I feared it could wreck my relationships with family and friends. And I worried the investigation would open old wounds at a time when I was also caring for two little children. Complaining to the police about you was a big risk.

I am very fortunate the Sex Crimes Squad did not deserve my distrust. They were a revelation to me.

They gave me all the things I thought I could never have from the police. They understood sexual violence; I did not have to explain it to them. They took my complaint seriously and showed me respect.

Most of all, they showed genuine concern for my welfare, which surprised me a good deal. Even now, the thought of their consistent and genuine concern for me over the past four years brings tears to my eyes.

It was hard to give the police the forensic details they needed in my statement about you. Giving evidence in court and undergoing cross-examination was harder still. And yet, it has been a great privilege to be part of the case. Doing so has allowed me to re-examine my teen years as an adult, as a parent. I am finally able to forgive myself, in a way I never could before.

The long investigation took a toll on me. Four years of uncertainty blighted my life. I didn't know whether you would be charged at all, much less on my account.

Once I realised the scale of complaints against you in Australia, I came to fear you might still be abusing children overseas: in Britain, Singapore or the nearby Riau Islands, whose brothels are notorious for the rape of children. Those fears haunted me until you were arrested in London.

This case has seen me walk a hard road, but I am very glad I had the courage to begin the journey. I am enormously grateful to the police, the prosecution team and the officers of the court. I am grateful for the diligent service of the jury. I am grateful to every witness whose testimony led us closer to the truth. I am even grateful to your advocate, whose vigorous defence ensured fair play. Most of all, I am grateful to the many people who came forward to the police, especially those who were denied their day in court by bad, old laws.

Together, these good people have uncovered the truth and made everyone safer. In doing so, they have also healed a deep wound in my heart. I thought no one in our society cared enough about your crimes to ever do a thing about them. Together, these good people have proved me wrong. This is a precious, irreplaceable gift. I will cherish it always.

You might think I want you to receive a crushing sentence or that I relish your suffering. I don't. But I do want children to be protected from you for the rest of your life. It is important to punish your past crimes. It is even more important to protect today's kids. I hope your sentence does both.

No matter what it turns out to be, I hope your sentence marks the end of an era. I hope it means you have assaulted your last child; made your last, false denial; manipulated your loved ones for the last time.

I hope this day brings emancipation to your partner, Robyn, and your daughter, Jessica, even if it also brings terrible pain. I hope the sentence separates them from you, so they have the space and safety they need to rebuild their lives.

Until the trial began this year, I had enormous respect for Robyn. It is easy for me to see why Cate Blanchett loves her so very much. It sickens me to see Robyn suffering extreme stress and public humiliation on your account. But the trial has exposed a number of Robyn's choices, past and present, which I never imagined she would make. With these choices revealed, my opinion of her can never be what it was.

As for Jessica, it is my great hope that she is now safe to take stock of your conduct over the years: how it harmed her; how you put your needs above hers. I hope she realises she doesn't have to play the role of your Electra any more. With that knowledge, I hope she will be unburdened and she will be free.

I cried tears of joy when you were found guilty, but it was not joy at your downfall. Your story is not just a tragedy for your victims and their families. It is a tragedy for you and for everyone you hold dear. My uncle Carl had a deep affection for your family. He was closer to Robyn than his own sister, my mother.

I am glad he did not live to see this terrible day. Robert, your story is a Greek tragedy. You had wealth and success and celebrity but you fell into a terrible cycle of contempt and arrogance. Only you will ever know how long it lasted or how much harm you caused. Today, finally, that cycle is coming to an end. Like all Greek tragedies, it ends in your ruin.

But that's not the end of the story. Because, while Oedipus didn't have a mental illness, I'm willing to bet that you do. No matter what the judge decides, I hope you can get psychiatric treatment and embrace it, even if it is frightening or embarrassing at the start. I hope it will lift a burden from your shoulders and you will feel less alone.

Some people are born with a very low capacity for empathy and I think you are one of them. But empathy can be learned, even if you don't feel it naturally. They say 10,000 hours of practice can make you an expert in almost anything. I want you to start practising empathy. I want you to do it every day until you are an expert.

Practise and practise until you can imagine how your victims feel, how your loved ones feel. Practise until you can care about those feelings. Practise until you can feel empathy for the police who investigated you, for the prosecutor who opposed you, for the judge who sentenced you. It will take a lot of time and effort. It will be painful, but it is worth the pain.

Your lawyer says you are a broken man. If that's true, this is the way to start repairing the damage you have done yourself. Until now, the state has used force to make you confront your crimes. I want this to change. I want you to start doing things because they are right, not because you are forced.

Once you can feel empathy for the people you have wronged, I want you to find a way to compensate them. Not because you are forced to, but because it is right.

I invite you to start with the victim who went to the police three times before she got help. Start with the family who were forced to move house to escape you.

Start with them and work outwards to everyone else. Robert, I cannot excuse what you did to your victims. I can't forgive you either, because you have never shown any sign of remorse. Reconciliation takes active effort from all sides. I see no effort from you, but I hope that will change. Your victims deserve to have the choice to forgive you, even if they choose not to.

I know it's not usual to give gifts at a sentencing, but I hope you will accept mine. I have two books for you. One is Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, a stoic philosopher. He has a lot to say about self-control and the moral hazards of power and wealth. May his writings inspire you and help you bear your punishment with stoicism.

The other book is about compassion, written by a Buddhist. Whether you are religious or not, this book describes techniques you can use to start practising empathy. I am also giving you a mala, a Buddhist rosary. The mala I have chosen for you is made from the seeds of a bodhi tree. It is under such a tree that enlightenment was first achieved.

With these gifts, may the seeds of enlightenment take root within you. May compassion blossom in your heart.