THERE have been many momentous occasions on the plateau of Liverpool's majestic St George's Hall.

A magnificent building that epitomises the city's glorious past, its resurgent present and optimism for the future.

Wirral Globe:

Down the years I have stood there and watched and reported on pivotal moments, from the John Lennon vigil to the Capital of Culture's upbeat celebrations.

But this was different. This was extra special.

Truth had come home.

As a journalist I reported on Hillsborough at the time when the disaster unfolded and many times subsequently.

Not a day goes by when I don't think about it.

Wednesday evening's vigil was a homecoming tinged with sadness but also bringing with it waves of hope in our hearts.

The 96 who lost their lives at Hillsborough were saluted as were their families who after 27 painful, cruel years finally heard the news they - and we - wanted to hear.

Innocent.

But why were they on trial in the first place?

The jury confirmed the facts.

Unlawfully killed.

The city and the world now knows what happened at Hillsborough.

They know what the victims - those who died and those who survived and were left to cope, somehow, with the wicked aftermath - have really been through.

Injured by the gross injustice, the lies sustained so ruthlessly for so long, they will still go through it until accountability is shown.

Forget Watergate. Much closer to home this was the most appalling cover-up in our lifetime.

One suspended South Yorkshire Chief Constable is just a first step.

We all greeted that news outside St George's Hall.

Liverpool City Council quickly and expertly had put on a respectful and at times joyous "thank you" to everyone who had kept faith with the 96, the survivors, the families and the city itself.

It was an emotional evening that showed Merseyside and its people in a great light. 

Lifelong campaigner John Lennon's bitter, angry song Gimme Some Truth soared out of the speakers.

Pete Wylie's Heart as Big as Liverpool did the same as we watched a montage of 96 lost souls on big screens.

We all sang the Liverpool anthem You'll Never Walk Alone.

Everton fans sang it holding hands with red fans.

It was a marvellous Merseyside sight to behold.

Red scarves waved, blue scarves too, and banners swayed and flags were unfurled.

Lime Street looked like a mini-Anfield.

The names of all 96 were read out by three MPs.

Andy Burnham, shadow home secretary, who had earlier made a passionate speech in the House of Commons, was welcomed with the chant "There's Only One Andy Burnham."

Liverpool Mayor Joe Anderson was in attacking form ridiculing the Murdoch press and taking a serious swipe at Boris Johnson for calling us "Self Pity City."

"We are a self gritty city," he said.

"Finally the walls of lies have been torn down."

Joe gripped the lectern and castigated all those who didn't believe the campaigners.

Former manager and Red legend Kenny Dalglish read a poem called "Footprints" in which he added why "We 'll never walk alone."

The 800 survivors who were injured in the crush were also remembered.

Members of the families then spoke.

Margaret Aspinall, who lost her son James, was met with rapturous applause.

She was still fighting. She won't stop.

Fans shouted "Margaret Aspinall for Prime Minister."

Danny Gordon, brother of inspirational mother Anne Williams who lost her son Kevin and who died after years of life-draining battles, was there to speak for so many broken hearts.

The Dean of Liverpool and the Archbishop of Liverpool gave prayers.

During the darkest days of the disaster the churches were there for the people.

They still are.

Two silver balloons bearing figures 9 and a 6 floated into the Mersey skyline.

A solitary red heart balloon sailed away afterwards...onwards and upwards.

I wish we hadn't needed such a vigil.

But the people of Merseyside did need it.

There was one moment that will remain in my memory in the years ahead when justice took off its blind mask.

A banner held high by fans from all over Merseyside which proclaimed loud and clear - yet in its own dignified silence - "You picked on the wrong city."

Wirral Globe: