I was a young lawyer, probably 27. I still had great ideas and dreams about law being all about justice and equality. A relative had been arrested and charged with ‘stealing’. She has been in some money transfer business from outside Ghana, and one customer claimed that some beneficiary in Ghana didn’t receive some money.
I was her lawyer by default. It was a preposterous charge. But my view was that we should simply pay the money. On the court date, I arrived early and went to see the Police Prosecutor in his office to say that we were willing to pay the money. To my surprise, he grabbed the case file, which was with him, and said that we should go and see the Judge and inform him about it. I followed him, and we entered the Judge’s chambers by the backdoor. The Prosecutor told the Judge about my offer to pay the money. But he spoke Twi. “That is a bit odd,” I thought. It suggested that they were more chummy than should be the case. The Judge turned to me with a huge and almost lecherous smile and asked if i had the “Deutsch Marks” on me, also in Twi. I managed to mutter a “yes.”
The he said to go and pay it to the Prosecutor and come back on the next adjourned date and announce the settlement to the court. He picked the case file from the Prosecutor and wrote the agreed date on it. At the Prosecutor’s office, I paid the money to him in the presence of the complainant. On the next adjourned date, I returned to court, thinking that this was all over. When the case was called, I gleefully informed the judge of the settlement. What happened next, blew me.
The Judge was angry, flaming angry. He shouted at me, asking who told me that I could settle the matter by just paying the money? He threatened to report the Prosecutor to his bosses. I was speechless. But the Prosecutor was cool, absolutely nonplussed. But i was confused. Was this not the same Judge who gave the settlement his stamp of approval just the previous week? The Judge then adjourned the case again, commanding the Prosecutor to produce his witness on the next date. Outside, I asked the Prosecutor about what just happened. He simply shrugged and said to me in Twi: “énkasa ne ho. Weyi deé maanma no sika no bi,” translated, “do not mind him. This time, I did not share the money with him.” I felt dizzy.
The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. After we paid the money, the Prosecutor had pocketed some of the complainant’s money. The Judge had expected a cut, but had been swindled out of it. That explained his anger in open court. Worse, although I never intended that to happen, I had just been part of a bribe and swindle deal. I felt dirty. The Prosecutor then told me to simply go and not return. That was the end of it. I was haunted for days. I am still haunted. My innocence had been taken from me without my consent. This was rape, a rape of my innocence and belief in the system.
This Judge had been appointed to office upon the belief that he met the constitutional standard of being “of high moral character and proven integrity.” He had also sworn the constitutional oath to “bear true faith and allegiance to the republic of Ghana as by law established; … uphold the sovereignty and integrity of the Republic of Ghana; … truly and faithfully perform the functions of [the] office without fear or favour, affection or ill-will; and… all times uphold, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution and the laws of the Republic of Ghana.”
Yet, here he was, clearly in cahoots with a police prosecutor, extorting monies from complainants and sharing the booty. What else was that duo up to in the court? When cheated out of the booty, all the judge could do was to rave and rant in court, powerless to take any sanctions because he had been compromised. What was worse, I had been sucked into that corrupt scheme, whether I liked it or not. I had been corrupted.
I had been raped. I toyed with the idea of going to the police. But what could I prove? Nothing. I was powerless. This is Ghana. You don’t have to set out to be corrupt. The corrupt system will suck you in, whether you like it or not. You lose your innocence, and soon you lose your conscience.
Soon, what is evil becomes the norm and good becomes the exception. “How can a young man keep his way pure?” an ancient bard who became King of Israel, mused once.
I ask, how does a Ghanaian keep his way pure? You, yes, you, let’s have an honest chat… have you ever…?
Source: citifmonline
