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CHAPTER 26





The prosecuting attorney, Mr Rashid Momoh, did a brief and short opening statement as though he needed not waste words. Her ladyship called Mr Victor for his opening. The lawyer marched to the podium.

He began by announcing Richard to be a very respectable man in the society who had no reason to commit murder.

The lawyer stressed on Richard’s army background, citing he was expected to have firearms, and that no one would want to implicate himself by using registered weapons to commit murder.

He pleaded for Her Ladyship to reason beyond the evidences, as no man would accuse himself on purpose as to use such glaring evidences, and ended his statement there.

Her ladyship scribbled on her pad and called the state to call its first witness.

The prosecuting attorney climbed the podium and called out a Bayo Yetunde, the man who handcuffed Richard at the crime scene.

The prosecuting attorney helped the witness in introducing himself and examined him. He guided him in testifying Richard to be the one found in the crime scene with an assault rifle and some ammunition. The prosecuting attorney asked other ritual questions before letting go the witness.

Her Ladyship asked the defence for a cross-examination. Mr Victor uttered a no.

Her Ladyship asked for a second witness and the prosecuting attorney brought out a pathologist who testified that the cause of the victim’s injuries was the bullets found in him.

Mr Victor did no cross-examination.

The state called in its third witness, the FCID’s ballistician. Richard’s heart tore as the expert strode to the podium, holding a file.

“May you state your name,” the prosecuting attorney began.

“Mr Christopher Imem.”

“Address, please?”

“19, Beuno quarters, Calabar, Cross River.”

“What is your profession?”

“I’m a ballistician.”

“And where did you study that?”

“Daldymyr West Ukrainian National University.”

“Have you been certified in your field?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hold any degree in the field?”

“Yes. A masters’”

The prosecutor angled head. “What does someone of your profession do?”

“We deal with the science of firearms and projectiles.”

“Have you witness in trials before?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say a number?”

“I’ve witnessed in thirteen trials.”
The prosecuting attorney directed to Her Ladyship.

“My Lady, the state wish to present Mr Christopher Imem, a Ballistician, to witness as an expert in the field of Ballistics.”

Her Ladyship faced Mr Victor. “Any examination of the witness?”

“No,” Mr Victor said.

“Mr Momoh, you may continue.”

“Have you studied the crime scene?” the prosecuting attorney asked the ballistician.

“Yes, I have.”

“And were you able to recover anything?”

“No.”

“Were you given the bullet found in the victim?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you do to it?”

“The forensics sent it to a crime lab in Kentucky, USA, to find a match.”

“Are the results out?”

“Yes.”

“What are the results?”

He opened the file in his hand and stuck eyes to it. “The results said that the 9 mm bullet was from a registered Glock 19 pistol with serial number 626409.

The pistol was purchased by the person of Richard Fayemi in the year 2011.” He thumbed through several photos and explained some charts.

Going further, he explained the gunpowder found in the victim’s wound entrance and the clear muzzle imprint.

The shot was taken point-blank.

“Mr Imem, what is your final opinion?”

“My final opinion is that the bullet recovered from Bakare Damijo’s lumbar bone was shot from a Glock 19 belonging to and purchased by Richard Fayemi.”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

Her Ladyship directed to Mr Victor.

“Any cross examination?”

“Yes, My Lady.” He adjusted his suspenders to fit his flat belly and marched to the podium.

“Mr Christopher, what does ballistics involve?”

“It involves the study of firearms and projectiles.”

“Does it involve pointing out who shot a gun?”

“With calculations and additional information from investigations, it can help in point out who shot a gun.”

“Does your Ballistics result state that the Glock pistol which produced the bullet was shot by Richard Fayemi?”

“No, but it clearly states that the pistol belonged to Mr Fayemi.”

“If I carry that same Glock pistol and shoot at someone, would it give same result?”

The ballistician aimed at the file in his hand and his ears twitched. “Yes.”

“So is there any possibility that the Glock was shot by someone other than Mr Fayemi?”

“That could happen.”

“Thank you. That’d be all.” He strode to his seat.

“Any redirect?” Her ladyship asked the prosecuting attorney.

“No, My Lady.”

“May the state call its next witness.”

The prosecuting attorney stalked to the podium. “My lady, the next witness would be speaking through a video link because of his inability to be here in person due to some health issues.”

Her Ladyship looked at Mr Victor. “Any objections to the witness testifying through a video link?”

“The defence has no objections to that,” Mr Victor said.
He offered Richard a glass of water.

“You should drink this.”
Richard received the glass and tried a sip. The liquid singed his taste buds.

“What wrong have I done this man that he would place a murder on my head? His testimony would go far in weakening our chances.”

His lawyer gave no reply. His eyes were as blank as his pad on his desk.

Something hovered around his face, something that did not resemble confidence.

Noise arose in the courtroom. Her Ladyship hit the gavel against her table and the noise subsided. The officers helped in controlling the remainder.

Some technicians set up a screen and some electronic equipment at the front of the court.

The prosecuting attorney began. “The next witness is the victim of the case, Mr Bakare Damijo. He would be testifying from his domain. The state had ensured he is free from any sort of pressure or anything that would prevent effective examination.”

The technicians finished with their set-up and the victim, on a wheelchair, showed on the screen. He squeezed his jaw with his hand, waiting for the prosecuting attorney to begin.

The prosecuting attorney turned to the screen.

“May you state your name, please.”

“Bakare Damijo.” His bass boomed from the side speakers.

“Address?”

“22, Meji Street, Lagos Mainland.”

“What’s your occupation?”

“I run a computer store.”

The prosecuting attorney glanced at his legal pad. “Does the orchard at Burma Street belong to you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any issues with it, like a dispute with the land or something else?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Are you in any dispute whatsoever with anyone?”

“None that I can remember.”

“Where were you on the 17th of August, 3 P.M.?”

“I was at my orchard.”

“Were you there alone?”

“There might have been some persons around.”

“And who are they?”

“I don’t know all of them.”

“Can you say the names of those you could recognize?”

“As at 3 P.M., all I saw a man standing on my turf.”

The folds that were almost formed at the lawyer’s cheeks relaxed. “And what was the man doing?”

“He was standing, gawking at his phone.”

“And who was this man?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“If you see the man anywhere, would you be able to recognize him?”

“I would. I have a good memory.”

The prosecuting attorney fished into the leaves of his pad and brought out a photo of Richard. “Is this the man?”

“No, it isn’t.”

The prosecutor brow furrowed and relaxed as he began speaking. “Did anything suspicious of a crime happen in the orchard?”

“Yes. The man I saw had a bag that I believe contained some money. He was about to sell something to someone, something that couldn’t be sold in the open.”

The prosecutor fixed on his legal pad and scribbled. He raised head to Bakare.

“And what happened next? Did the man you saw eventually sell anything to anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see the second party?”

“I didn’t see him.”

The prosecutor walked nearer to the screen as though the victim was present physically. “But you just said he sold an item to someone. How would you know that if you didn’t see the second party?”

Bakare formed a smirk. “There was no mirror. I couldn’t have seen myself.”
Murmurs arose in the courtroom. Her Ladyship shouted for order and struck her gavel.

“Mr Damijo, do you understand you are in court, testifying under affirmation, and before the judge? Your words have to be the truth and nothing but that. False witnessing is perjury, and that is a felony with grave consequences.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

“Mr Damijo, what business were you involved in at the orchard.”

“A heroin deal.”

Noise filled the courtroom, people engaged in side talks. Mr Victor pointed eyes to the victim as though they controlled the victim’s words. Richard used braced palms to cover the lower half of his face, with eyes fixed on the screen. Her Ladyship rapped her gavel and signalled the officers to maintain order.

The prosecuting attorney moved closer to the screen, and the furrows at his brow multiplied. “What did you say?”

“A heroin deal.”

“Mr Damijo, I would repeat. Perjury is a felony very punishable by law.”

“I’ve committed no perjury.”

“Mr Damijo, were they anyone else in the orchard except you and this your supposed dealer?”

“Yes.”

“Can you state the name?”

“Ezinne Fayemi. She appeared at a later time.”

Murmurs grew in the courtroom. The officers hovered around with their nightsticks.

“Are you sure about that?”

He carried a smug face. “I’m sure as I am of the fact I never would be able to walk again.”

The prosecutor pinched the bridge of his nose and returned to his legal pad. “Mr Damijo, did you see who shot you at the orchard?”

“I did.”

“Can you give the court the name?”

“Ezinne Fayemi.”

Whispers erupted in every corner of the court. Half of the spectators’ eyes spun to Ezinne. Her countenance was not altered. It was as though nothing was said against her. Her Ladyship hit the gavel on the table. “Anyone caught chattering would be reprimanded,” she said, and order was established.

The prosecuting attorney turned to Her Ladyship. “My Lady, I establish my witness as unfavourable and would request the leave of the court to cross-examine.”

“Mr Momoh, before I can grant you a leave to cross-examine, you must present me with a valid reason.”

“Yes, My Lady.” He fixed on his legal pad and flipped its pages backwards. “On the first questioning of the witness at 29th of August, 2:16 P.M., he admitted he was shot by the defendant as opposed to his present statement. He thus made a contradicting statement.”

“Is there anything to confirm your claim except the record on your book?”

“I didn’t do the questioning alone. I was with Inspector Babarinsa. You can verify from him.”

Her Ladyship turned to an officer on uniform.

“Mr Momoh is right, My Lady,” the inspector said.

“You may proceed with your cross-examination,” Her Ladyship told the prosecutor.

The prosecutor directed at Bakare. “On the 29th of August, were you questioned by me and a fellow officer?”

“I was,” Bakare said. “On a sick bed.”

“And whom did you say shot you?”

“The defendant.”

“And I believe you meant Richard Fayemi?”

“That’s right.”

“Now, why the contradicting statement?”

“I was on a sickbed. I would say anything to make the interrogators give me some peace. They were aggravating my headache.”

The prosecutor’s eyes dug into its socket. “Mr Damijo, do you have anything to back your claims?”

“I don’t.”

The prosecutor fixed on his legal pad. He closed the pad and raised head to Bakare. “That’d be all.”

“Mr Victor, any cross examination?” Her Ladyship asked.

“No, My Lady.”

“Thank you,” she said as though Mr Victor did her a favour, and Bakare disappeared from the screen. “Does the state have any more witnesses?”

“No, My Lady. The state rests its case.”
Her Ladyship faced the spectators. “The court stands adjourned until 10 A.M. February 9th. The defendant is to remain in police custody. I will have the prosecuting and defending attorneys in my chambers.” She rose and walked into her chambers.

Noise exploded in the courtroom like air gushing from a loosened balloon.

Mr Victor tapped Richard’s back. “It seems God is on our side.”

For the first time, Richard believed that. Nothing else could make the victim testify the truth.

“I’m needed in Her Ladyship’s chambers.” The lawyer rose and started for the chambers.

The prosecuting attorney and other suited men marched forward.

CHAPTER 27





Lauren watched the fishermen struggle with the fishes. The ocean rippled as they casted their nets into it. She rose from her lounger and strolled to the banks.

Few persons learned to swim at a far end, not whites, but black teens, guiding themselves on how to flap legs in the water.

She returned to her lounger and continued watching the fishes struggle in the fishermen’s nets and baskets.

The sands carried a shadow of someone long, holding a lounger, advancing towards her. A man. The shadow stopped moving and the man dug his lounger beside her. It was a harbour engineer she had befriended overtime.

“Today is for the anglers, not the tourists or surfers.” He settled on his lounger. “Why are you on shirts and trousers?”

“I don’t plan on swimming. I only need the air.”

“You’re on vacation?”

“No. Newfield is still in session.”

He lowered hands and picked some of the fine sands, and then, funnelled them through a folded hand. “No lectures today?”

“There is.”

“You’re missing lectures for Tarkwa bay.”

“Today is my first.”

The sands on his palm sprinkled as he dusted them off. “There shouldn’t be a second.”

“Why aren’t you at the harbour?”

“I thought I could use some of the air here, I’d return there any second.” He picked another of the sands and funnelled them to the ground.

A trader holding a carriage of snacks and other things wheeled to her and tried cajoling her into buying some doughnuts. She refused, and the trader left with a bad face, making her wish she had bought some, or even one.

“There’s nothing the traders don’t hawk here. That one had sachet alcohols in his carriage, and little children might be tempted to buy.”

His phone beeped. He fished it out from his denim pocket and looked at its screen. “I’m needed for a small job at the harbour. I’d be back.”

“Wait.” She stopped him from moving.

“I would need a walk to the harbour.” She rose and stretched herself.

“You’ve ever been to the lighthouse?” she asked.

“Yes, sometimes after vigorous workings, I would go there to rid myself of the noise the beach offers.”

“I heard the surroundings is very rural and contains a few of the nation’s monuments.”

“Yes. You can call it a village. When I first began working in the harbour, I use to visit there to see some of the country’s monuments. That was years ago. I doubt if those artefacts are still present. Presently, not much happens there, and the stress of boating yourself to it is not much encouraging.”

They walked to the berth. Some harbour men crowned in blue helmets unloaded moored container vessels. The engineer discussed cranes and cargo sheds with a white-helmeted black man, having an oil whiff.

They leaned by a ledge protruding from a cargo shed and watched the men crane out containers.

“How is working in a midst of blacks like?” she asked.

He wobbled head as though confused of the words to voice out. “Initially it seems perverse, especially when you’ve not lived amongst them before, as it was in my case, but after a number of years, you’ll understand there are like any other American, interesting people with black skins.”

“How many years did it take you to understand that?”

“Not as long as I thought or as anyone would think.”

He shouted to a man and strode to the berth. He pointed fingers at different places and did more shouting before returning to the ledge.

“How’s Newfield?” he asked, staring at the busy men.

“Newfield is good.”

“There should be a good number of whites there.”

“Not really.”

“Aren’t they white lecturers?”

“A fair number.”

“That’s expected. I used to know a white lecturer based there.”

A white man walked to them. He hailed to her and then began a talk with the engineer. They talked navigational channels and wharves. The engineer dug hands into a pocket and brought out a white sheet, wrote on it and handed to the colleague.

“I figure an okay number of whites work here,” she said.

“Yes, mostly as engineers, and few as motormen. The work here needs some expertise that the locals haven’t fully mastered. Newfield teaches a course on this, Marine and Harbour Engineering. Very soon a majority of the locals would have gained enough expertise.”

She sat on the ledge and lifted a knee up.

“I’d return soon,” the engineer said and headed to the berth, where he stepped into a moored ship.

Some men began transferring sacks to the cargo sheds. Those who walked past her smiled at her. Returning the smiles wasn’t very easy, but she tried to.

The engineer stepped out from the ship, now wearing a white helmet like most men around him. He advanced to her side and pointed to the jutted tower.

“There is the lighthouse.”

“I wonder what could be in it.”

“The only things in it are the little openings of its walls. It’s as empty as hell.” He lifted himself onto the ledge, now whiffing of oils.

#


Abbe walked past the gate. The gateman welcomed her without the usual smile that bared his front fawn teeth. He asked after Oga, lifting his djellebah as though preventing its hem from touching the ground. She told him Oga was doing fine, which he rightly understood to be the opposite.

He swore to kill the entire policemen if they inflicted a scratch on Richard and then wished her a happy new year.

On the veranda, Ezinne stretched on a recliner with folded hands, fixed on the mini garden. Her braid dropped on both sides of her head, tapering it into a slender bottle form. She shifted eyes to Abbe and returned them to the garden. The white of her eyes had turned grey.

“Ezinne,” Abbe called.

Ezinne adjusted into sitting and spared some space beside her. She tapped the recliner for Abbe to sit.

“Why did you shoot Bakare?” Abbe asked, watching Ezinne’s lips for its next movement.

Ezinne returned gaze to the lavenders and wilted peonies. “Because it was the suitable thing to do.”

Any response than those would have bettered the remainder of the tragic day. It was true. Ezinne shot Bakare. She let an innocent Richard hurt in jail.

“What did Bakare do to you?”

“I would beg you to help me ask him. Then you tell me what he says.”

“What about Richard?”

Ezinne’s lids dropped. She began sliding fingernails over each other. “Richard would get out of jail when he is done.”

“Done with what?” She pushed head forward to see Ezinne’s full face.

“Richard has been in jail for over four months, likely to extend more than that.”

Ezinne spun to her. “He would soon be out. His tenure would soon be over.”

“Tenure for what?” Abbe wondered if the woman could hear the words evolving from her mouth. “Richard did nothing to warrant a minute in jail.”
Ezinne turned to Abbe and fixed on her.

“Who determines that? Let’s not lie to ourselves.”

“What’s gone into you, Ezinne?”

“Nothing. Everyone only got what they deserved. Including me.”

“You shot a man, and you’re sitting here a free woman. I doubt that is what you deserve. You tried killing a man, and you’re letting an innocent man, your husband, suffer your crimes.”

“I shot a man. You ought to be scared of me. What are you doing here?”

She ought to be scared. Where was the fright? Why did she feel like squashing the bones that lined Ezinne’s neck, instead of being afraid? “I’m scared of you, but that won’t stop me from striving to learn the truth. Why haven’t you told the police what actually happened?”

“You heard Bakare’s testimony in court. He told them everything that happened. It’s painful they refused to follow up on his words. It’s the world’s way of controlling justice. When Richard is done paying for his sins, the truth would unfold. Then my time to pay for my sins would begin.”

“What are you saying? Richard is the most unfitting man for that jail.”

“No one can deceive himself.” She paused. “Or herself.” She turned to Abbe and held gaze with her. “How many times have you had sex with Richard since you knew him?”

Abbe’s breath ceased. Ezinne’s entire words clogged her nostrils. “E…zinne.”

“I’m not holding anything against you.

The world is fair, it gives everyone fair justice, it would deal with you. Bakare is suffering for his deeds. Richard is suffering for his deeds. And you. The demon that controls your fingers is enough suffering for your deeds. Very soon I would be suffering mine.”

Abbe tightened lips and crushed the tiny bones in them. “I wish the police would arrive now and place the handcuffs round your wrists.”

“If wishes came true, you’d long be dead. You’re lucky I inferred your sins late.”

She rose and stared at the woman. “I pray one day you realize the evil you’ve done.”

“I realized that years ago.”

THE END
















Of chapter 27

Thanks for the update

Good job Madam, the story is getting more interesting and the suspension is great.
Thanks for the update

vonn:
THE END















Of chapter 27

Rough play fa
nice story ma'am i'm glued

...

vonn:
THE END





Abeg no try am O ooo...












Of chapter 27

Waiting for chapter 28 jooor...Thanks for d long update...I wish Ezinne a lifetime in jail in advance

good job....thanks for the update.
you are the bomb!

vonn:
THE END















Of chapter 27

Sisi Vonn .... Nor let wetin apun for Warri 8yrs ago apun hia o

Awww this is lovely!!!


Kudos.

Skimpledawg:

Sisi Vonn .... Nor let wetin apun for Warri 8yrs ago apun hia o

Lol....wetin happen?
I want to know

Finally, the story will end tomorrow
I'll drop two chapters today and by the grace of God finish up tomorrow.

vonn:

Lol....wetin happen?
I want to know

Eehhh ... Seems u dnt read news o.... Ask onemansquad n stuff46, dey will gist u beta..

Skimpledawg:

Eehhh ... Seems u dnt read news o.... Ask onemansqu.ad n stuff.46, dey will gist u beta..

wetin happen

I pray eZinne rots in jail

JigsawKillah:

wetin happen

Charlie, u sef knw hw e dey go nau..... all ma records for warri still stands

Skimpledawg:

Charlie, u sef knw hw e dey go nau..... all ma records for warri still stands

lol
and you nor get record of last month yawa?

CHAPTER 28





The courtroom looked smaller, not only the courtroom. Richard glanced at his sides. Everybody looked smaller, even Her Ladyship. She eyed the pad in her hand, riffling as though all was okay, as though there were no hearts on gunpowder.

Everyone looked at her, waiting for her to speak. She looked back at them.

“May the defence call its first witness,” she finally said. Things were better when she kept mute.

Mr Victor stood and strode to the podium. He called Richard into the witness box.

“Your name, please?” the lawyer asked.

“Richard Djebah Fayemi.”

“Where do you live?”

“13th avenue, Lander Close, GRA, Apapa, Lagos.”

“What’s your profession?”

“I’m the CEO of Erneto Aives, a quarry industry.”

“Have you worked or served elsewhere prior to that?”

“I once served as a 2nd lieutenant in the Nigeria armed forces.”

The lawyer tilted head. “What qualifies one to serve as a lieutenant?”

“You have to be well trained, well educated, disciplined and most of all, trustworthy.”

The lawyer jotted down something on his pad. “Mr Richard, where were you August 17th, 3:19 P.M.?”

“I was in my sitting room, sitting on my couch.”

“And what happened next?”

“I received a phone call from an Abbe Oboh.”

“What was the phone call about?”

“She asked for a DPO’s number. She needed the police to save a friend of hers whom she believed was endangered.”

“And did you give it to her?”

“I did.”

The lawyer scribbled on legal pad.

“What led you to the cherry orchard at Burma, Omi Street, the crime scene?”

“My house is closer to it than the nearest police station. I thought I might reach there before the police and salvage the situation, so I picked up my arms and drove to the orchard.”

“And did you reach there before the police?”

“I did.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw two men, one armed, and the other unarmed. Two bags lay on the ground. I never saw their contents. The men engaged in talks which I couldn’t hear.
I maintained my position and watched. I didn’t see any real threat to life, so I thought of letting the police take control. Shortly, a woman appeared at the scene and shot the armed man, which happened to be the friend of the lady who phoned me.

Minutes later, the police arrived. They were late, for those in the orchard had already fled. I was the closest to the scene, and I was armed, which must have led the police to believe I was the shooter and caused them to arrest me.”

“Did you recognize any of those in the orchard?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Which of them?”

“The woman.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Ezinne Fayemi.”

“Is she related to you in any way?”

“She is my wife.”

“Objection!” the prosecuting attorney shouted and stood up. “My Lady, that is a defamatory statement. The defendant is only trying to capitalize on the victim’s made-up testimony.”

“Overruled.” Her Ladyship aimed at the prosecuting attorney. “You would have your occasion to contend the defendant’s statement, but please, let him speak.”

She directed to Mr Victor. “You may continue.”

The lawyer returned to Richard. “From the happenings you saw at the scene, what can you deduce?”

“I would say a crime deal was happening in which the victim, Bakare Damijo, was involved and got himself framed.”

”Mr Richard, how many guns do you keep in your firearm case?”

“Two.”

“Which are?”

“An AKMS assault rifle and a Glock 19 pistol.”

“On your check at August 17th, how many guns did you find?”

“One. The assault rifle.”

“What can you deduce from that?”

“Someone must have taken the Glock.”

“What’s the Glock’s serial number?”

“626409.”

“Where and when did you purchase it?”

“Los Angeles. 2011.”

“Was anything else missing from the case?”

“Some bullets and a silencer.”

“What calibre were the missing bullets?”
“9 mm.”

“Where in your house do you keep your firearm kit?”

“My room’s wardrobe.”

“And how many persons do you live with?”

“One.”

“Who is that?”

“My wife.”

“Does anyone have access to your wardrobe except this your wife?”

“No.”

“Thank you, that’d be all for now.”

Her Ladyship turned to the prosecuting attorney, whose lips vibrated as though the words caged in them couldn’t wait to jump out. “Any cross examination?”

“Yes.” The prosecutor stood and stalked to the podium. He locked eyes with Richard and opened his legal pad.

“Mr Fayemi, I’m Mr Rashid Momoh, the prosecuting attorney, and I’d be asking you some questions. How many years did you serve in the army?”

“Six years.”

“Are you retired?”

“I left when I had to do business.”

“Same thing as saying you are no more in the military, you are now a civilian.”

“Yes.”

“In the military academy, were you taught that civilians are not supposed to take laws in their hands?”

“Yes.”

“Someone who had spent six years in the armed forces is most likely to obey national laws. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“And if he one day choses to disobey, can I say there might be a secret agenda?”

Richard stayed silent, staring at the prosecuting attorney. “There might not always be a secret agenda.”

“You went to a military academy and spent six years serving in the armed forces, you knew the laws well, and you however insisted to go to the crime scene, against the law, most probably with the intention of shooting someone. May I know why?”

“The woman who phoned me is a good friend. Her friend was in danger, I knew I could help, and I decided to help.”

“Was that your secret agenda?”

“It’s not a secret agenda.”

“You’re right. That couldn’t have been your secret agenda. You said you were willing to kill for a woman whom you describe as just a friend, I repeat ‘just a friend.’ First, that is implausible, and if it’s true, it means she was more than just a friend. Am I correct? Was she more than just a friend?” He allowed some silence and stared at Richard. “I would understand one trying to kill for someone more than a friend, which might be the case here, which might be a secret agenda.”

“Objection!” Mr Victor shouted and sprung up. “The prosecutor is speculating and infringing into my client’s personal life.”

“Sustained,” Her Ladyship said. “Please the court should disregard the state’s last statement.”

The prosecuting attorney continued. “All I’m trying to do is make the court see reasons why the defendant could say a slanderous statement against his wife, it is obvious he was interested in another wo—”

Mr Victor hit the table. “Objection! The prosecuting attorney is veering outside the case. It concerns nobody if my client is interested in another woman or not.”

“Sustained. Mr Momoh, you shouldn’t go into that again.”

“Okay, My Lady.” The prosecuting attorney faced Richard. “You said a pistol was taken from your firearm kit.”

“That’s true.”

“You said you do keep the kit in your wardrobe.”

“That’s true.”

“You said you live only with your wife.”

“That’s true.”

“So it’s either you used the pistol or she did. Since it couldn’t be you, it’s automatically her. Isn’t that what you are saying?”

“I’m saying it’s her because I saw her shoot the victim at the orchard.”

“That’s what you say you saw.” He paused. “Is there a possibility that someone other than your wife could have entered the room you kept your firearm kit?”

Richard remained silent for a while before muttering out words. “I kept the firearm kit in my room. No one enters my room except my wife and me.”

“No one had ever entered your room except your wife and you?” The prosecutor focused on him.

“No one could ever enter my room and open my wardrobe other than my wife.”
The prosecutor dropped gaze to his pad.

“Mr Richard, do you realize than you are indirectly saying your wife took your pistol and shot that man, and do you realize she has a reputation which you are shredding into pieces. Mr Richard, you could be compiling your charges.”

“Objection.” Mr Victor shook his head.

“Is that a threat to my client?”

“I’m not threating your client,” the prosecuting attorney said calmly. “I’m only educating him on the gravity of words spoken in the court.”

“Sustained,” Her Ladyship said. “I don’t think the defendant needs the education.”

“Mr Richard, have you ever housed anybody in your house where you keep your firearm kit?” the prosecutor asked.

“I have.”

“Are you always home with such persons?”

“No.”

“Is it possible for such a person to gain access to your room and wardrobe?”
Richard did a swallow. “My room is always locked when I’m out, except when my wife remains at home.”

“And your wife is a woman. She could be in the kitchen, laundering, or doing one of the many things women do, while this guest of yours could be in the house doing nothing. Can such a thing happen?

“It can.”

“And this guest of yours, can he or she have access to your room when your wife is in the kitchen or someplace other than the room?”

“He can.”

“Thus, it could be anybody who took the Glock pistol, right?”

The question was already answered. All he needed do was say the word. “It’s possible.”

“Or could it be nobody?” He turned to Her Ladyship. “My Lady, that’d be all.” He marched to his seat with a widened face.

“Any redirect, Mr Victor?”

“No.”

Richard made for his seat.

#


Abbe sucked in a long breath. She would soon be called out to witness. She prayed she uttered the right words. Her eyes met Ezinne’s, they was half-closed, pointing from a distance. The once full face had narrowed into a thin line.

Mr Victor called Abbe into the witness box. She breathed into her palms and stood. She found her mum’s face among the spectators. The woman nodded.

Abbe walked to the witness box. Richard sat a small distance from her. He did not look at her. She entered the box and faced the lawyer.

“Are you Miss Abbe Ivie Oboh?” Mr Victor asked.

“I am.”

“Your house address, please?”

“18th street, Olodi, Lagos State.”

“Have you ever heard of the name ‘Bakare Damijo’?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen him in person?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any relationship with him?”

She thought of the right words to say.

“He is a friend.”

“How close is the friendship?”

“We’re close friends.”

“Would you want to see any of your close friends hurt?”

“No.”

“And would you do anything within your power to thwart that?”

“Yes.”

“On August 17th, 2:57 P.M., did you make a phone call to this Bakare Damijo?”

“I did.”

“And what did you two talk about?”
She lowered gaze from the lawyer to the edge of the wooden box. “I phoned to know of his wellbeing. With the way he sounded, I suspected something to be wrong, something that might be threatening to him.”

“What way did he sound?

“He was whispering, and elements of fear mixed with his voice.”

“And what did you do on noticing that?”

“I figured out his location and thought of sending the police there. I called Mr Richard for the police emergency number.”

“Did Bakare Damijo tell you his location himself?”

“No, I figured it out, I could hear wind moans and trees rustle, so I figured it would be his orchard. I’ve been to the orchard several times.”

“When you phoned Mr Richard, what did you two discuss?”

“He gave me the police number and demanded for Bakare’s location.”

“Did he tell you why he demanded for the location?”

“He said he wanted to send another police team there in case those I called were not fast enough. I believed him because he served in the armed forces. I thought police dealings to be part of his knowledge and he might help in some way.”

“And did he help?”

She stared at the lawyer and searched an answer in his face. His face was blank.

“Did he help?” he asked again.

“I never would have wanted him to drive to the scene, I prefer he left the police do their job.” She wondered if that was the right reply.

“If Mr Richard never arrived at the scene, do you believe the true felons would probably never have been seen?”

“Objection.” The prosecuting attorney stood up and faced the judge. “My Lady, that is a compound question. There is an assertion of falsity of someone else being the felon.”

“Overruled. The defence had not assumed anyone the felon. Mr Victor, you might please continue.”

“Thank you, My Lady.” He returned to Abbe. “Miss Oboh, do you believe that without Mr Richard’s presence at the scene, the true felons would never have been seen.”

“I believe so.”

The lawyer walked to his desks and carried two phones from his clerk. He returned to the podium and showed the judge. “My Lady, if it pleases the court, the defence would like to introduce these mobile phones showing the date and times of calls into evidence. If they are any doubts on the calls of Miss Abbe, her phone can be checked to clear the doubts.”
The bailiff received the phones.

“Any objections to the introduction of these phones into evidence?” Her Ladyship asked the prosecuting attorney.

“No objections,” the attorney said.

“You may continue, Mr Victor.”

“I’m done. I have no further questions.”

The judge scribbled on her pad and looked at the prosecuting attorney. “Any cross examination?”

“I’d be asking some questions.” The prosecuting attorney adjusted his suit and rose. He stalked to the podium and pierced eyes into Abbe’s. She removed hers and returned them to him on remembering Mr Victor words to always keep head straight.

“Miss Oboh, who exactly is Mr Richard to you?”

“He is a friend.”

“What about Mr Bakare Damijo?”

“A friend.”

The prosecuting attorney scrawled something down. “How long have you known Mr Bakare?”

“For some months. I would say four.”

“For the number of months before this all began, did you ever suspect Mr Bakare to be involved in a criminal activity?”

“No.”

“And do you suspect him now?”

“With the things on ground, I believe he was somehow involved in some criminal activities.”

“And what things are on ground?”
She stared at the Prosecutor. He cocked head and stared back at her.

“The whole case,” she said. “With the hearings of the case so far, I’ve been able to gather he could have had hands in some crimes, and he himself testified to be involved in a heroin deal.”

“Or would it be more suitable to say you believe he was involved in a criminal activity because your other friend, Mr Richard, said so?”

“Objection!” Mr Victor saved her. “Mr Momoh is deliberately trying to force words on the witness.”

“Overruled. Mr Momoh, you should continue.”

“Thank you, My Lady.” He returned to Abbe. “Miss Abbe, you’ve not answered my question.”

“I believe he is involved in a criminal activity because he testified so himself. My personal study also shows there is a huge possibility Mr Bakare could be involved.”

“Did your study not also reveal Mr Richard could be involved?”

“No.”

“So your study favoured one friend as opposed to the other.” He stared at her.

“Miss Abbe, do you think it’s possible to hear background noises of trees rustling and wind whirling through a phone.”

“It’s very possible. I heard them.”

“No one is saying you didn’t, I’m only questioning the possibility.” He paused.

“You claim to have phoned Bakare Damijo, the victim. Are you aware that a thorough search has been done on the crime scene and nothing resembling a phone was found?”

“Maybe someone took it, but I did phone him. I—” She swallowed her remaining words. There was no need defending herself.

“And what someone? Footprints were not found either.”

“Objection.” Mr Victor narrowed eyes at the judge. “The place isn’t a muddy ground. It’s all turfy and grassy. Footprints would be hard to find, and I doubt the police did a thorough search, considering they believe to have found their criminal which they assumed to be my client.”

“Overruled, let the prosecuting attorney finish,” the judge said.

The prosecuting attorney returned to Abbe. “How old are you, miss?”

“I’m twenty seven.”

“Isn’t it new to the ears that a twenty seven year old citizen of the country does not know her zone’s police number?”

“Objection.” Mr Victor rose. “My Lady, It’s not new. Most Nigerians in their graves never knew the police’s number for their lifetime. I’d say most spectators seated here are yet unaware. The Police are not well advertised. The woman should not be blamed.”

“Overruled.” Her Ladyship pointed something close to a scowl at Mr Victor.

“It would help if you could give the state attorney some space in examining the witness.”

The prosecuting attorney turned to the judge. “That’d be all, My Lady.”

“Any redirect, Mr Victor,” the judge asked with a freshened face.

“No, My Lady.”

The judge faced the court and announced the end of the day’s session. The court remained adjourned until the 3rd of March.

More days for Richard in prison.

Abbe left the witness box and returned to her seat. Richard looked at her and gave her a nod.

CHAPTER 29





Abbe chopped the beefs into suitable sizes and poured them into the boiling water. She rotated the cooker’s regulator and placed a cover on the pot.

Her mum stuffed the tomatoes into a blender and plugged its wire to the wall socket. The tomatoes churned and brought with it squashing noises.

“You’re going to marry that criminal,” her mum said in Esan.

Abbe pretended as though the noise from the blender and her distance from her mum prevented her from hearing.
Her mum asked again with an upped voice.

Abbe glanced at her. “I don’t know, mama, and I wouldn’t like to talk about it.”

“You have to. It’s your future.” She turned off the switch, poured some water into the blender and continued with her blending.

“Come help me wash the remaining tomatoes,” she said, definitely to stay close and avoid the shouting.

Abbe washed her hands in the sink and fetched water into a bowl. She sat on a stool by her mum and transferred the tomatoes to the bowl.

“I wouldn’t let you near that man, Mé wa kha, you heard his testimony in court, he is a criminal.”

She scrapped the sticky dirt at the head of a tomato. “What can I do? Right now, the only thing on my mind is Rick’s freedom. That’s the only thing I want to think of.”

Mama picked up the washed tomatoes and stuffed them in the blender. “Your Richard would be free, he has a good lawyer, and the victim testified the truth, what—”

“That helped, but the state also has strong evidences. They strongly believe Richard committed the crime and they have evidences that point directly.”

Mama opened the blender. A splash of the bloody red semi-liquid landed on her nose.

She wiped it off with the edge of her wrapper and continued with her blending. She didn’t talk for a while. Abbe wished the whole cooking could go like that, but it was not possible.

“What about the woman whom the victim claimed shot him? What would be done to her?”

“She’s roaming free. The police don’t believe Bakare’s testimony. They refused to follow up on it.”

“Why?” The wrinkles in mama’s face clustered. “You mean they didn’t arrest that woman?”

“The last time I saw her, she was a free woman.”

“What if she runs and the police find her guilty?”

“I don’t know what they’d do.” She scraped the skin of a tomato.
The woman gazed at her blender.

“That man, Bakare,” mama muttered,

“he would be imprisoned if Richard is set free.”

“I know.”

“Are you willing to get married to a prisoner?”
She dropped a tomato. “I don’t know.”

“The man testified because of the hope you gave him, the hope of getting married to him. You bargained with him.”

She remained silent. There was nothing to say.

Mama raised head to her. “You’ve tried seeing him since after he testified?”

“No.” She rubbed the fruit’s red flesh. “I don’t know what to do. He proposed to me and I said a yes. The bargain was the only hope, and I don’t regret it.”

Mama shook head ruefully. “Bakare’s testimony is the only speck of hope I have that Richard might not be spending eternity in that hell.”

She focused on the tomatoes reddening the water. “He testified with his freedom at stake, kept his end of the bargain, and now what do I do?” She sniffed.

“You should never have agreed to his proposal.”

“Then I would watch a man sentenced to jail on my head.”

“If Richard was sentenced to jail, he would certainly come out. You know how it goes for elites like him; they don’t stay in there for long.”

“That rule didn’t seem to be followed. He was locked for months without bail. If the police could lock him up, then they could do anything. Be him an elite or not.”

Mama poured the remaining tomatoes into the blender and let the machine do the rest. “You’d have to do something. You bargained with your future. If you heed to that bargain, your future would be at risk.” She looked at her as if saying be warned.

“What’s there in marrying a man, a man who walked to you and proposed?”

“It’s something that affects the whole of one’s life. If you can put your life on the line, think of your children, my grandchildren. When you marry a man, you must bear him children. And a child has his father’s blood. A father’s path must affect his child.”

Abbe braced palms and rested jaw on them. “What if he has changed? What if he can change? He wouldn’t be spending long in prison since he brought himself in.”

“Your life is too big to rest it on a pile of what ifs. He proposed to you as a criminal, and you never knew. You would never know if he changes or not. Even if he tells you he has. Your dad and I have stayed this long because I didn’t make this mistake you’re about making.”

The beef pot’s cover began trembling. Abbe rose for it. She sprinkled in some salt and lowered the cooker’s temperature.

She returned to her mum and continued with the tomatoes. Her mum focused on her blending and attempted no talk.

Abbe enjoyed the quiet. It was much better than arguing whom to marry and whom not to.

She held the crucifix of her rosary and did a little prayer. The ending shouldn’t be so bad.

The salient points in d story are rily mind blowing.....


Vonn, coman finish it o.... My throat too long.

whao, full of suspense

vonn,com finish wetin u start oo

Skimpledawg:
The salient points in d story are rily mind blowing.....


Vonn, coman finish it o.... My throat too long.

I heard a cup of salt will shorten it

pami90:
vonn,com finish wetin u start oo

Lol.
The tortoise kept quiet when he was thrown into a pit. He only started shouting and cursing when he was about to be rescued.
My dear, day never end nah

Madam vonn, waiting oooo

CHAPTER 30





Her Ladyship called the prosecuting attorney for his closing argument.


The attorney marched to the podium and began by telling the court how much he valued life and a criminal had to be taken from the streets for the sake of those treading upon it, for the sake of those in the courtroom, sitting and listening to him. He mentioned how so many elitist figures beat the hand of the law.

They commit crimes and go free, and some bargain and return to the streets. It shouldn’t be encouraged. No one is above the law. Everyone must suffer for his actions.

He pointed out the evidences that deemed Richard guilty, dwelling on the firearms found with him on the scene and the agreement of his pistol to the bullet found in the victim. That should be convincing enough, he said.

A bleeding man was found shot and another was found with a gun, what else was needed to prove the later guilty. He faced the judge and repeated his words. What else was needed to prove the defendant guilty?

He treated the victim’s testimony of being shot by Ezinne Fayemi, and how it contradicted his initial testimony of being shot by the defendant.

Something must have made the victim go against his initial testimony, it might be he was contacted and threatened, no one knew. The first testimonies were always the truth.

The prosecutor pleaded for Her Ladyship to see the validity of the evidences that shouts the defendant’s guiltiness. Releasing a criminal to the street would do the citizens no good, would do the nation no good. He ended there and made for his seat.

Richard had his head bowed the whole time. His worse sight was to see the prosecutor’s lips move as the man called him a criminal.

He raised head when the speech ended and wished the ground opened and swallowed the prosecutor as he treaded on it to his seat.

Her Ladyship called Mr Victor for his closing argument. Mr Victor strode to the podium and acknowledged the court before apologizing for his client’s attempt to take laws into his hands.

His client never should have drove to the crime scene with a mind of shooting someone. It was a very poignant act that shouldn’t be encouraged.

But sometimes, friendship led people to do unspeakable things, and that should not land one in jail. Trying to be a good friend was a good thing.

Her Ladyship should try to see beyond the evidences brought against the defendant, as they were all results of him being at the wrong place the wrong time. The defendant had no reason to murder someone.

The lawyer spoke of the victim’s testimony. It was a clear and true exculpatory evidence. He must have said the wrong things in his first testimony due to his ability to reason straight and the disturbance the interrogators caused him.

A suffering patient would say anything to make his interrogators spare some peace.

The theory of him being contacted or threatened was not valid since the doctor said no visitation was allowed the whole time the victim stayed in hospital.

The victim’s testimony was true and should be considered. Why would he give a false testimony and include crimes he committed? It was not logical, not rational.

He spoke on the evidence of the phone conversation between Richard and Abbe. Phones did not lie. The phone evidences were clear and convincing.

He told Her Ladyship how innocent Richard was, an innocent man who had spent months in jail for trying to be a good friend. A day should not be added to those months.

It was better not to let an innocent man rot in jail than to acquit a guilty man. He left the court with that and stalked out of the podium.

Richard pressed palms together. His lawyer just created the first fleck of hope. Richard hoped the closing had an effect on Her Ladyship. All of it would be useless if it had none.

His Lawyer posed on his seat. Richard gave him a tap at his lap. Nine Hundred thousand was not a waste.

Her Ladyship called for a two-hour recess. The verdict would be declared when the court resumed at 3:30.

Richard did not leave his seat, but remained with his lawyer and welcomed his mates from the barracks.

They promised to get him out, no matter the judge’s verdict. A soldier couldn’t stay in jail. Richard managed to sneak few smiles to them.