The Trial Of The Beast…

AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

THE TRIAL OF THE BEAST

EPISODE 6

A huge makola woman wearing a wide-brimmed raffia hat was also interviewed. Her once-white apron was smeared with the red palm oil she was selling. She looked into the camera with utmost anger on her face.

“Aha! The boy who killed the President’s wife?” she asked angrily.

The startled reporter took a moment to reply.

“No, that’s not the charge!” she said hurriedly. “He’s accused of rape and two murders, amongst other things!”

“Aha!” the woman said and wiped an oil-smeared hand on her apron. “You see, as for me, I have a problem with the lawyer paaa!”

“What lawyer?” the reporter asked.

“Aha! The lawyer who’s defending that wild animal! That lawyer is a fool paaa! How could he, a big sensible lawyer man, decide to protect that wild animal? Doesn’t he have parents to advise him? He’s a fool paaa!”

“Lady, the law demands that-.”

“What law? The law told him to protect that wild animal? Then the law is also a fool paaa!”

A university lecturer who was interviewed expressed the hope that due processes of law would be followed, and that the boy should receive a fair trial.

“I know people hate him so much, but until proven guilty, he should be presumed innocent. I heard he grew up in an orphanage, right? This should tell us that we need to express love to those poor children in the orphanage. Most of the time they grow up all alone without love, and this makes them hardened criminals.”

A truck-pusher was stopped and interviewed.

He was wearing dirty jeans and an even dirtier singlet.

His four-wheeled cart was laden with ripe plantain, and he was sweating excessively from the effort of pulling it along.

“Look, madam, you tink say I be fool?” he asked the reporter with disdain. “You tink say because Ato no go school before, he fool?”

“I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” the reporter said with obvious discomfort. “I merely asked your opinion about the Zak Twum case which will go to court tomorrow!”

“Yoo, I hear you, madam, I hear you!” he said with a shake of his head and a little sarcastic laugh. “The ting be say, dey just want kill that boy!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” the reporter asked with shock. “Why should anybody want to kill him? He’s being taken to court for his terrible deeds!”

“Terrible deaths? You say terrible deaths? Aha, dat is what I mean, madam. Aaaba, how can you talk me say dis little boy killed two people and raped all these women? Ha, dat is lie! This little boy can’t do all dat, madam! First dey say he is seventeen years old, now dey say he is twenty years, just cos dey want to kill him.

Madam, me I am tinkin of myself. You should tink of yourself too. Dey say dat if you see your neighbour’s beard on fire, you should fetch water and put it beside your own beard. See, next time they can catch me and say I killed Jesus, and den they will kill me. Dey jes want to kill the boy!”

And with that he took hold of the handle of his cart and pulled and puffed along without further ceremony.

A smart-looking woman waiting for a bus took one look at the reporter and the cameraman, and then she turned around and ran away.

The reporter then turned to face the camera with a fake smile on her face.

“There you have it,” she said in a voice filled with fake American slang. “Eight serious charges have been levelled against the most notorious criminal this nation has ever had the misfortune of having. First degree murder, arson, rape, assault… and the list continues. From all indications it is going to be a short trial, because the evidence against him is airtight. We hope that the terrible atrocities he committed shall be duly punished, and thus send a clear message to other criminals that there is no place for them in this noble land!”

***

As had been the norm for several years now, Mr. and Mrs. Kuntu lunched with Chief Justice Ayew and his daughter every Sunday.

This particular Sunday Mrs. Bensiwa Kuntu had prepared some delicious aprapransa. She was a small beautiful and gentle woman. She was a good cook, and since she had no children of her own, she loved Gyamaan very much.

The men had retired to the living-room as usual while the two females cleared the table and did the washing in the kitchen.

The men had been watching Thirty Minutes Perspectives on Prime View television. The women had been watching it on the small television in the kitchen.

Gyamaan, whose hands were deep in soapy water, shook her head numbly and rushed into the living-room; Mrs. Kuntu was right behind, her face puckered with a worried frown.

“Daddy!” Gyamaan addressed her father. “What’s going on?”

Her father and Kuntu exchanged baffled glances.

“Dear, I –” Ayew began.

“Zak is not twenty years old!” Gyamaan cried, apparently very distressed. “He’s seventeen! Did you have a hand in this?”

There was an awkward silence for a while, and then Kuntu cleared his throat.

“Sugar, that boy lied to you,” he began softly. “The policeman in charge of the investigation found a file containing the records of some orphans although most of the records were lost in the fire that razed down a section of the Sasam Orphanage. This file had a record of Zak from the time his mother brought him to the orphanage.

He was admitted as a three-year-old baby, seventeen years ago. You know, he never had a real birth certificate. This new document is quite authentic, so if you add the three years to seventeen, he is indeed twenty years old!”

Gyamaan looked at Kuntu for a long time, and then she turned to look at her father.

“Is that the truth, Daddy?” she asked quietly.

The Chief Justice could not look at his daughter in the face, but Kuntu looked at her straight, and although he hated himself for telling her a lie, he nodded.

“It is the truth, Lady G, please. We won’t lie to you!”

Gyamaan turned away without a word and left the room.

Mrs. Kuntu looked at her husband and nodded briefly, and then she followed the young lady out.

When Kuntu turned, he found the Chief Justice looking at him with profound shock.

“It was you!” Afriyie Ayew gasped hollowly. “You provided the false document that makes Zak Twum twenty years of age? Your wife also knows about this, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, to both questions,” Kuntu said. “Ayew, it was nece-”

“Don’t give me that!” Afriyie exploded, his face filled with horror. “You know the law, son! You know every man is presumed innocent until proven guilty! How could you do this? It is disgusting and preposterous! That piece of turd raped my daughter, yes, but that doesn’t mean you should stoop this low, Kuntu, dammit!”

Kuntu’s face was tight as he faced his mentor.

“That boy will receive a fair trial for his heinous deeds!” he said coldly. “He will never do that to any other girl again! How would you feel if he’s tried as a juvenile and sent to a borstal home, and then ten years from now he rapes another girl, or kill another man? That boy deserves to die…and I just twisted the case on its right direction by having him tried as an adult instead of a juvenile! And I have absolutely no regrets about that!”