SIXTY-THREE

March 25, Accra, Ghana

James Akrofi summoned the director-general. In Akrofi’s office at the top of the Police Headquarters, which was a separate entity from the CID building, he showed Andoh a letter of great concern.

 

James Akrofi

Inspector General of Police

Ring Road East, Accra

 

March 21

 

Dear James Akrofi:

 

On February 14th this year, I arrived in Ghana under the impression that I was to meet a woman I had been communicating with. I then discovered that such a woman did not exist and that during the months of January and February, I was being defrauded of thousands of dollars by an Internet romance scam, which I’m sure, you are familiar with.

I filed a full and detailed statement with CID. My hope was that the person or persons responsible for scamming me and stealing my money would be apprehended. The case was assigned to a Detective Inspector Damptey. To say that I have been disappointed by her performance would be an understatement. After more than a month now, there appear to be no results whatsoever from what I even hesitate to call ‘an investigation,’ or if there have been, I have not been made aware. Every call I have ever made to DI Damptey has been met with evasion and prevarication. I get the impression that she has taken no interest whatsoever in my case.

What I am learning from people like investigative reporter Sana Sana is that the lack of any meaningful investigation into Internet scams, of which mine is only one, is most likely due to the collusion of police officials themselves, including those in high position. More revelations in this regard are likely to be forthcoming, but the phrase, ‘name, shame, and jail’ does come to mind. I read in the media that President Bannerman has engaged you in his initiative to eradicate corruption. I sincerely hope the house you clean first will be yours.

I was in Ghana decades ago while in the Peace Corps and I had a most engaging and fulfilling time, including meeting the Ghanaian woman who became my wife. It has been a tragic experience for me to observe the negative changes that have overcome this nation and turned it into one of greed and monetary gain at any cost. Along with a writer from the Washington Observer, I intend to write an extended piece about my experiences and incorporate, if possible, some of the names Mr. Sana will come up with in the next few months.

Yours truly,

Gordon Tilson

 

Andoh was appalled. In the first place, there was something treacherous about people who went straight to the top with their complaints. Why hadn’t this man come to Andoh first? Secondly, the letter was full of outright hostile language.

“Sir, this . . . this is ridiculous,” Andoh said. He looked at the letter again. “How dare this man? ‘I sincerely hope the house you clean first will be yours?’ It’s insulting. And what is he trying to do, threaten us by telling us he’s working with Sana Sana? And that he’ll be writing something in the what? Washington Observer?”

Akrofi chose to disregard that for the moment. “Where is DI Damptey with the investigation?” he asked.

“I have to get an update from her supervisor, DCS Quaino, but they have been questioning different sakawa boys, both in custody and on the street, to see if there’s a connection with the American man. It’s not true what he’s saying about Damptey not taking any interest.”

“Was there any kind of personality clash between Tilson and Damptey, to your knowledge?”

“No, sir. Not that I know of.”

“All right, listen,” Akrofi said calmly. “This man, Tilson, needs to be checked. I don’t care who he thinks he is. The best way, in my opinion, is to invite him down to your office, have a courteous meeting with him and tell him you will make his case a priority, but for that to take place, he needs to cease and desist from all this nonsense. What he is doing here is not proper at all. If he wants to behave this way, he can go back to the US and find trouble there.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” Andoh said. “On top of it all, this mess he finds himself in is all his own doing. What galls me is his collaboration with Sana Sana, who is probably encouraging him to behave in this arrogant manner.”

Akrofi looked at his watch. “I have a meeting with President Bannerman.” He stood up. “As always, keep this discussion completely confidential, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

The IGP stood up. “Bottom line, you need to stop this Tilson in his tracks. Quickly.”

Back in his office, Andoh brooded. Regarding Gordon Tilson, he agreed with Akrofi on what needed to be done, but Andoh had not always seen eye to eye with the IGP. In such situations, however, the director-general had to hide his feelings and kowtow to his superior. That was just how police hierarchy worked, not to mention Ghanaian society. Andoh didn’t think Akrofi was much good, really. Take the issue of the Cybercrime Division as an example. It was more than nine months ago that Andoh had alerted the IGP to the dire need for more funding. What had Akrofi done? Nothing. In fact, he hadn’t even followed up with Andoh about it. Not a word.

Besides the lack of faith in Akrofi’s professional effectiveness, Andoh harbored a well-hidden, years-long, personal grudge against the IGP. It sat stubbornly in his psyche like an immovable mass of unrefined cement. But Akrofi was completely unaware of this resentment and even more oblivious to its origin.