JIJI NDOGO: Prison break is no child’s play

Fact: We have established that she’s being held somewhere in Shimo la Tewa prison.

Fact: We visited the prison and sure enough, we now know she’s here.

And final fact (and this is the crappy part): She’s come here as a real prisoner, complete with the required paperwork.

This last one is a doozy. Superintendent Maliza is the big man in the prison where we are at the moment. And by big, I mean he’s built like a school bus and seems he can punch harder than two Tysons.

“Now that the line-up is over and we’ve established the prisoner came yesterday,” he says in his voice like thunder rolling across the sky, “you cannot miss the fact that she’s here legitimately. And here’s the papers to prove it.”

“But it can’t be,” I say, before my bosses get a word in. “Just yesterday she was with me at a police conference. How can she now be in prison for…” I snatch the papers out of Maliza’s hand and check the info. “…robbery with violence? She’s a police officer for God’s sake.”

Maliza takes a step towards me and I swear he causes a solar eclipse. “Listen here, son, as an officer of the law, you know damn well that it’s not my job to litigate cases. I’m only the executioner, not the judge.”

He has a beautiful set of teeth and I’m pining to bash them in and damn the consequences. My boss, Inspector Tembo, steps between me and the prison boss.

“Mr Maliza,” he says, “you have to forgive my young subordinate. The officer in question here is his wife and, as you must well know, passion does cloud judgment at times.

“That said, what the hell do you mean that a police officer registered and present at a conference yesterday is arrested, tried and convicted for a violent crime in the space of a few hours? Have you gone completely bonkers?”

Maliza’s eyes narrow to slits, his nostrils flare up and he looks ready to explode. “One more word from any of you and I’m throwing you out of my prison. You hear?”

Inspector Noklu, the man heading the investigation, pulls Tembo aside and faces the prison boss. He has the demeanour of a pupil before a strict principal.

“My apologies, Superintendent.” He clasps his hands by his chest as if in prayer. “The man is right about passions and all that. After all, he’s the victim’s father. But you must understand how wrong this whole situation sounds. It would not bode well to have a wrongly-convicted person in your—”

Maliza laughs so hard it sounds insulting. He slaps his thigh and says, “What is this, the latest episode of Blue Bloods? So what are you, Noklu, the trusted man-servant?”

“Sir,” Tembo interjects, “all this word war won’t get us anywhere. The fact is, Sgt Sophia — yes, my daughter — shouldn’t be here, and that wrong needs to be righted. There must be a way to go about it.”

“Well said.” Maliza nods as he goes back to his seat. “There is a way to get your daughter out of prison. All you have to do is hire a very good lawyer and appeal her case. If you’re successful, I’ll open the gates myself.”

“But it’s not a legit case,” Noklu insists. “How do we appeal a bogus fictional case?”

Maliza consults the paperwork. “The sentence was passed by High Court judge Uhuru Kwisha.”

Suddenly, I begin loathing our justice system.