When the proceedings resumed, Lieutenant Lati took the stand as the prosecution’s last witness.
“Identify yourself to the court.” Jerome Okadi spoke in a subdued voice.
“My name is John Lati. I head the homicide division at Madia police headquarters.”
“Before we address specific issues, do you have any general observations on this case you wish to share with the court?”
“Yes,” Lati answered. He cleared his throat deeply, then turned in the judge’s direction. He stated that in his twenty-one-year career he had never investigated a case that baffled him more. Then, in a soliloquy, he asked a series of questions, answering each in turn.
“Did we find any motive for this homicide? No. Did we see any physical evidence that tied the accused to the prostitute’s death? No. Is it unusual to find homicide cases without apparent motives? No. Do some people kill just for the sake of the thrill? Absolutely yes. Is the circumstantial evidence against the accused strong? Without a doubt.”
Mr Okadi nodded vigorously throughout this speech and paced the room, two steps in one direction, then two in another, his chin held up. He stabilised himself on one foot, then pirouetted to face Lati.
“On a scale of one to ten—ten being the strongest—how would you rate the circumstantial evidence?”
“Without a doubt, at ten.”
“Outline for the court, detective, the nature of this evidence,” the prosecutor urged.
“First of all, independent corroboration places the accused in the proximate area where the drowning death occurred. The lifeguard has testified that the accused was at the scene of death. Second, he admitted knowing that the deceased was a prostitute. He would not have been in possession of that information were he and the deceased not acquainted prior to her death. Third, he admitted under interrogation that the deceased drowned while running from him. He also revealed that she shrieked as she ran. People only run from danger, from those who have harmed them or are intent upon harming them. Fourth, the lifeguard on duty testified that the accused hindered the resuscitation of the deceased.”
“Is that all?” Okadi asked, with the confidence of a man aware that there was more.
“No. We also found the accused man’s explanation of the woman’s death highly suspect.”
“Could you explain to the court what you mean by suspect?”
“Yes. His account was implausible, full of holes.”
“Kindly describe them for the court.”
“Yes. The accused falsely claimed that the deceased was raped by a gang around four a.m. He said he couldn’t see the faces of the attackers because it was too dark. He further claimed that the unknown assailants abandoned the deceased and left in a truck. He stated that one hour after the assault ceased, he approached the site of the assault to offer help to the victim. Then, according to him, she screamed with terror and ran into the waves.
“In the course of our extensive and thorough investigation we interviewed several vagrants who sleep less than two hundred meters from the spot where the deceased drowned. None of them had heard any screams around the time of the alleged gang rape—four a.m. But they were able to corroborate the suspect’s story of a shriek closer to seven a.m.—the estimated time of her death.”
“What conclusion did you draw from that?”
“That the accused spoke the truth only in admitting that the woman was running away from him at the time of her death.”
“Tell the court, Lieutenant. Did the accused make any other doubtful statements?”
“Yes, indeed. He claimed that he ran after the deceased to save her, but found her too afraid to be rescued.”
“Did your investigation find this to be true?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, the lifeguard indicated that the suspect hindered his effort to resuscitate the deceased.”
“Are there other falsehoods the court should know about?”
“Yes. The accused tried to malign the reputation of the Madian armed forces by claiming that the deceased was raped by soldiers, specifically members of the vice task force. He also falsely accused a member of the Armed Forces Revolutionary and Redemptive Council of being a rapist and murderer. He alleged that twenty-three years ago, this distinguished officer raped and killed a woman.”
“And your findings?”
“That the claims were totally baseless. We could not establish that soldiers were anywhere near B. Beach on New Year’s Day. As for the accused’s retrospective allegations against the member of the AFRRC, we could not find that such a prostitute ever lived, much less that she could have been raped or killed by the said officer, who is a venerable public servant.”
“Your testimony to the court, therefore—and correct me if I am wrong—is that the accused raped the deceased, a prostitute, and caused her death?”
“Yes, that is my testimony.”
“Then he invented an elaborate hoax to deflect attention from himself?”
“That’s my testimony,” repeated Lati.
“And you are prepared to aver to the court that this testimony is truthful, that you arrived at your conclusions after an exhaustive, thorough and professional investigation?”
“Indeed, I am,” said the detective.
The prosecutor smiled. “No more questions, Your Honor,” he said, slowly turning to the judge.
Lati stood up, bowed slightly to Justice Kayode and made to leave the witness box. Bukuru’s raised hand caught the judge’s attention.
“Yes. Do you wish to cross-examine the witness?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Yes.”
Justice Kayode made a gesture of assent. “Good. You seem to have woken from slumber. The witness is all yours.”
A tense silence fell in the courtroom. Bukuru and the detective stared at each other, braced. Bukuru narrowed his eyes.
“You have wilfully lied here today, haven’t you?”
“Objection, Your Honor!” shouted one of the prosecutors. “The question has prejudicial intent.”
“Sustained!” Justice Kayode fixed Bukuru with a censorious eye. “You may not use language that blatantly questions the integrity of a witness.”
“But he spent his entire testimony calling me a liar,” Bukuru protested.
“You’re the accused in this case, not Lieutenant Lati. Now continue with the business of cross-examination.”
Bukuru ignored the order, addressing himself to the judge. “But am I not also presumed innocent?”
“Don’t let me run out of patience with you,” the judge warned. “My court’s time cannot be wasted. I said, and I say again, for the last time: continue your examination of the witness.”
Bukuru turned towards Lati.
“How did you arrive at the conclusion that the statements I made were untrue?”
“Through our investigation.”
“How many people did you interview in the course of it?”
“Three.”
“And all three, I take it, are the so-called vagrants?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you talk to any members of the vice task force?”
“We found no cause to. We can’t waste our time and other people’s time on the basis of a suspect’s false allegations.”
Bukuru looked towards Justice Kayode. The judge’s face remained impassive.
“Nor did you talk to any of the prostitutes arrested by the vice task force?”
“No.”
Bukuru wiped his hand across his brow. “The Head of State created the vice task force, I believe in September or October of last year. Do you remember what their mandate was?”
“Yes, to rid the city of prostitution. It’s part of the effort to attract foreign tourists to the city.”
“Oh,” Bukuru said. “I used to think prostitution helped tourism, that many tourists actively seek a bit of exotic native sex. Thanks to you, I now know better.”
Chuckles spread through the courtroom. Justice Kayode brought down the gavel on his desk and restored decorum. Bukuru faced the detective, grim.
“When he set up the task force, I believe His Excellency told the soldiers it was a declaration of war on prostitutes. Do people get wounded in a war?”
“Yes.”
“And killed?”
“Yes.”
“Why, then, do you find it hard to believe there would be casualties in a war declared by your commander-in-chief? You’re not by any means implying that an officer of the caliber of General Isa Palat Bello doesn’t know what he’s talking about when he declares war?”
A look of exasperation came over the judge’s face. “The witness may not answer this question.” Disgustedly, he said to Bukuru, “You must not talk about His Excellency with sarcastic levity. The patience of this court is not inexhaustible.”
“Your Honor, I was only trying to . . .”
“Don’t Your Honor me,” the Elephant fumed. “Just continue your cross-examination.”
Bukuru folded his hands in front of him and paced the room as Okadi had done. Suddenly stopping, he swept a glance in the direction of the reporters. His lips parted in a half-smile. Then he spun round on the witness.
“You’re convinced, detective, that I raped and killed the deceased woman?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Not only that, you are convinced that I am a serial rapist and murderer?”
“Yes.”
“Is it fair to assume you read the newspapers two days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see reports about another woman’s corpse found on Coconut Beach?”
“Yes.” Lati looked uncomfortable. “My department is investigating that incident.”
“Do you imagine that I somehow slipped out of detention and committed that crime?”
“It’s the work of copycats, criminals inspired by your example.”
“Is it possible those criminals are soldiers?”
“Impossible.”
“Let’s return to the crime I am charged with. Did I not tell you, detective, that the deceased was assaulted for at least two hours by members of the vice task force?”
“You did.”
“And that many other prostitutes were similarly raped? Indeed, that one such prostitute spoke to me?”
“You lied.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“You did, but it was a lie. The police have received no reports from any prostitute to the effect that members of the task force raped her.”
“Mr. Lati,” Bukuru said, pronouncing the detective’s name as one might a profane word. “How many men did the police prosecute last year for rape?”
The detective said nothing.
“Answer my question, detective.”
“I don’t have the figures handy,” said the detective.
“Ten?”
“Maybe.”
“But maybe not?”
“Perhaps.”
“Is it possible that there was not a single prosecution for rape?”
“Yes. There are years in which we receive no reports of rape.”
“Would it be because women never get raped in this country?”
“Objection!” came a voice from the prosecution bench. “The witness is being badgered with irrelevant questions.”
Bukuru looked at the judge. “My point is to show that women hardly report rape cases to the police. The police cover up assaults on women. I know.”
Justice Kayode had a doubtful air. “What you think you know is irrelevant. I’m afraid the police cannot be put on trial here. The objection is sustained.”
Bukuru shook his head despairingly, then resumed his questioning.
“You told the court that I tried to implicate a—to quote you—powerful member of the military government as a rapist and murderer.”
“That’s correct.”
“I believe I told you that the woman in question was a prostitute. That the same officer murdered her about a year later. Right?”
“Right.”
“Mr. Lati, could you tell the court who General Isa Palat Bello is?”
“Objection!” shouted the two prosecutors in unison.
Justice Kayode fixed Bukuru with blazing eyes that seemed to burrow into him.
“Listen to me, Mr. Man of No Name! You must understand and respect due process in this court. This is a court of law, not a civics class. I’m sure that everybody in this room”—he pointed to a pregnant woman among the spectators—“everybody, including the baby in that woman’s womb, knows that General I. P. Bello is the president and commander-in-chief of the Madian armed forces. Your question is grossly improper. It is a blatant and wilful show of disrespect to the person and office of His Excellency, the Life President of the Sovereign Republic of Madia. Let me sound a strong warning, once and for all: this court will not sit idly by and allow you to use the name of His Excellency in vain! I have already tolerated too much of your madness.”
His fierceness spent on this tirade, he added, “Objection sustained.”
“Detective Lati,” Bukuru continued, “did I not tell you that twenty-three years ago, General Isa Palat Bello raped a woman named Iyese?”
“Objection! This is insufferable!” exclaimed the junior prosecutor.
“Sustained!” thundered the Elephant.
A fearful stillness pervaded the courtroom. One spectator let out a nervous cough; others murmured. The judge sat back in his chair, poised between rage and resignation.
Bukuru pressed on. “Did I not tell you, Mr. Lati, that this woman was eventually murdered by Isa Palat Bello?”
The courtroom erupted into rowdy disorder which even Justice Kayode was powerless to suppress.
“Objection! Stop the madness!” cried the junior prosecutor, running towards the judge’s bench.
“Order! I rule the accused in contempt!” pronounced Justice Kayode, bringing down his gavel with deafening force.
Detective Lati descended shakily from the witness stand. On the courtroom floor, four detectives fell upon Bukuru from behind and fastened handcuffs on him. The mayhem in the courtroom increased as many spectators pressed for a glimpse of the trapped man.
The Elephant rose to his full height. His gavel struck discordant notes, out of sync with his repeated cries of “Order! Order!” Gradually the din died down. Justice Kayode waited for complete silence.
“The court hereby recesses for fifteen minutes,” he said in a hoarse voice. Mopping his brow, he walked away.
When the judge returned to the courtroom, twenty minutes late, the expression on his face showed that he had recovered his strength. He let his gaze fall on Bukuru, who sat between two policemen, shackled.
“In all my years as a judge I have never before seen such a blatant display of malicious contempt as took place today. My first instinct was to sentence you to jail for eternity—lock you up and throw the key into the Atlantic!—as a lesson that you cannot come to court and scandalize the good name and immaculate reputation of His Excellency.
“But—because this is a court of law, not a court of vengeance—I have tempered justice with mercy in arriving at the following rulings:
“One: The members of the press are barred from reporting any part of today’s proceedings where the good name of His Excellency was maliciously smeared. Any reporter who flouts this order will be summarily dealt with.
“Two: I shall appoint another psychiatrist to evaluate the defendant’s mental state and report his findings to the court. After the depravity we all witnessed today, it is my considered opinion that a second psychiatric opinion is called for.
“Three: In order to allow ample time for the new evaluation, this case will be adjourned for two months, until 15 March at nine thirty a.m.”
The judge’s gavel traced an arc as it came down one last time—koi!—on the varnished wooden bench. As the spectators began to file out of the courtroom, there was something disappointed about their gait—as if an exciting performance had been interrupted as it hurtled towards its climax.