His independence is why he will be greatly missed by even those who disagreed with him, including fellow Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, his long-time friend and opera partner. His relationship with the “Notorious RBG” is an inspiring one: even when they were vehemently opposed, she once told a Dutch newspaper that she had never experienced a working environment where colleagues showed “such respect and even fondness” for each other. After the Obergefell decision, which redefined American marriage laws to include same-sex marriage, Scalia “serenaded” Ginsberg with a Bob Dylan song in jest – but also, it seems, in recognition of the professional, congenial nature of their work.

Theirs was a relationship that could serve as a model for those in American politics today, in which the tenor has grown increasingly partisan and hopelessly personal.

As a justice, Scalia was, of course, vocal on some of the most controversial issues of our time, from his dissent in the decision to offer habeas corpus to foreign detainees at Guantánamo Bay, to his opposition to abortion rights, to his recent comments on the efficacy of affirmative action. I cannot personally say that I agreed with all of his decisions – his concurrent decision in California’s medical marijuana cases, 2005’s Gonzalez v Raich, was uncharacteristic in its interpretation of the federal government’s role in enforcing drug laws in the states – but they were always strong, well-worded and assertive, enjoyable, even, to read.