Yesterday, at the lowest point of his fall, the man now known as prisoner 102640 maintained the air of a man who wanted to get things done. In particular, he wanted his sentencing hearing completed so he could move onto the next phase of his life, doing his time — six years, probably out in four.

He arrived at the sentencing hearing before 9am — up and at ‘em while the Courts of Criminal Justice building was still shaking itself awake.

He was in dress-down mode for a banker, well-cut suit and expensive shirt but no sign of a tie. Blue collar criminals dress up going to court, those whose white collar has been felt by the law apparently dress down.

Slung over his shoulder was a rucksack, carrying all that he expected he would be allowed to bring into prison. He was unaccompanied, as he had been on the day of his conviction earlier this month following a trial lasting 87 days.

During the hearing, his lawyer Brendan Grehan told the court that Drumm, aged 51, would not be calling any character witnesses.

He didn’t want to subject his immediate or extended family to any further publicity. As such, he was facing the music on his own.

Court 19, on the sixth floor of the Criminal Courts of Justice building took on the character of a time capsule for much of the hearing.

The “mortgage situation” in the USA in 2007 got an airing again, as did the “domino effect” across the globe, and how it spilled into this country. The green jersey put in an appearance.

There had been urging by the Central Bank to Irish banks to support each other in terms of liquidity,” Mr O’Higgins told the judge.

Drumm looked on, arms folded, appearing almost relaxed, yet with a hint of impatience. Been there, done that, bought the green T-shirt. Those heady times were really revived when the counsel’s narrative turned to what was “real funding” and “not real funding”. In other words, funny money and how the masters of the universe were in stitches as they moved it around, playing their games, separated from the real world and the little people.

The courtroom was full without being jam-packed. This was not a notorious murder trial. Neither did it involve a celebrity caught on the wrong side of the law.

This was a banker being brought to account for crimes that occurred in the distant past, when we all lived in a different world.

The urgency, the anger that the actions of bankers had evoked, has dissipated. The world has moved on but while the wheels of justice have ground slowly, their progress is required in any place that wants to call itself a democracy.

At the end of his submission, Mr O’Higgins said that the “court ought to take account of the time the accused spent in custody”, This was a reference to Drumm’s five months in a US penitentiary awaiting extradition last year. The accused’s counsel Brendan Grehan got to his feet. “I won’t be arguing with Mr O’Higgins on that point,” he said.

In the dock, the accused managed a ghosted smile. His face though, for the most part, just asked everybody to get on with it, get the thing over.

Judge O’Connor needed a few hours to weigh it all up and deliver her sentence. Initially, she thought she’d be ready at 2.30pm, but gradually this was put back to 4pm.

During the long wait to hear his fate, Mr Drumm occasionally picked up his book, although it’s debatable whether he took in its contents. The book was written by BBC foreign correspondent John Simpson, and titled We Chose To Speak Of War and Strife. Maybe they did back in the days when Anglo ruled the world, but now the strife is all Mr Drumm’s.

When the hearing finally resumed, Judge O’Connor laid out a sober ruling.

This court is not sentencing Mr Drumm for causing the financial crisis,” she noted at one point.

“Nor is this court sentencing him for the recession which occurred. This offending did not cause Anglo Irish Bank to collapse. This court will sentence Mr Drumm only for two offences for which he has been convicted.”

That sentence was six years in prison. Once it was delivered and Judge O’Connor rose, a prison officer moved over towards Mr Drumm.

The former banker didn’t need any further hint. He was up and out of his bench, bag slung over his shoulder and through the door en route to fix up with society.