Ian McGregor adjusted his protective clothing and left his small office adjoining the morgue at the Princess Marina Hospital. He was deeply depressed, not because of the autopsies ahead—that was his job and he was used to it—but because his faith in the people of the adopted country he loved had been shaken to the core. The Batswana talked problems through, reached consensus, worked together. Ubuntu. How then the horrific blowup that led to the seven corpses chilling in the drawers next door? He wished he could chat to Kubu, who was a friend as well as a colleague. But he assumed Kubu was in Shoshong.
The bodies had been brought from Mahalapye by two ambulances overnight, so this was his first look. He knew Director Mabaku would want a preliminary report as soon as possible, so he decided to do a quick external examination of the bodies before he started on the autopsies. The two policemen and two old men—two of the elders at the meeting he supposed—had dreadful injuries. They had been battered with blunt objects, probably knobkieries. He would do complete autopsies over the next couple of days to see exactly what had led to their deaths, but he expected no surprises.
He took out the body of a young man who was not a policeman. One of the rioters, he supposed. There was no surprise here either. A bullet wound in the chest. Fortunately this was the only death from police fire, but he’d been told several people were in hospital also with bullet wounds. He sighed as he closed the drawer—the man had died so young.
There were two left: Chief Koma and another elder. He left the chief until last; he might as well start the autopsies with him. When he looked at the elder, he was intrigued. He had also been beaten, but not as badly as the others, and the lividity and lack of bleeding indicated that the wounds may have been postmortem. Ian’s professional curiosity was peaked. Here was an issue worth investigating. Probably the old man had died of fright, as a layman might say. Ian would find the physiological cause of that.
Then he checked Chief Koma. He, too, had been battered, but there was a curious patch of blood on the back of his shirt. Suspecting a stab wound, Ian cut away the shirt to expose the flesh. Then he realized at once what the wound was.
* * *
MABAKU FELT THEY were making progress. Leads were coming together; people were starting to talk. He was hopeful that by the end of the week, they could tell the president that the investigation was essentially complete and the perpetrators of the violence brought to book. His positive mood was interrupted by his cell phone. It took him a moment to fish it out of his pocket, and he answered without checking the caller.
“Mabaku.”
“Director, it’s Ian McGregor here. I’ve taken a look at all the bodies. Very preliminary at this stage, but there’s something you should know at once.”
“Go on.” Mabaku didn’t like the sound of this.
“From a superficial examination, I would say that the two policemen and two of the elders died from repeated blows from a blunt weapon, possibly a knobkierie or the like. No surprises there. The other elder seems to have been battered after he died. I’m guessing he had a heart attack or a massive stroke. I’ll be able to confirm that later. But Chief Koma…” He paused. “Chief Koma was shot. Shot in the back. The bullet lodged in the spine. That would have killed him. He was also battered, but maybe after he was shot. I can’t be sure at this point, though.”
For a moment Mabaku was speechless. Suddenly, the whole scenario had changed.
“Director? Are you there?”
“Yes, yes. Was it a stray bullet from a police weapon?” Mabaku realized this would be a public-relations nightmare, but at least that wouldn’t be his problem.
“That’s what I thought at first, but it’s not right. I extracted the bullet. It’s not police issue. The weight is more appropriate for something like a .22.”
Mabaku sighed. Now it certainly was his problem. He asked Ian for more information, but the pathologist didn’t have anything else to give him.
“I’ll do a full autopsy on the chief now and try to determine whether the other wounds were postmortem. But I’ll need some time, Director.”
Mabaku sighed and signed off with, “Thank you, Ian. You’ve really made my day.”