Click Here for Part 1
“Please,
don’t take me back to that cell… those men in there will hurt me,” Sale tried
to plead with the corporal to no avail. He was roughly pushed back into the
cell.
Desperately,
“At least let me make a call. If you will not hear me out, let me call my
people, my boss, or even a lawyer. It’s my right now. Give me my phone, let me
make a call!”
But he
was ignored and left there in the cells with the other inmates.
He
looked fearfully at the other men, especially the kingpin, but he was not
pounced upon and beaten half to death like he expected. In fact, no one paid
him any attention this time, as there had been another arrival during his
absence. This new inmate was a stocky teenager who had apparently refused to
fan Baba when he was asked to and was now being dealt the beating of his life,
much to the entertainment of every man in the cell.
Glad for
the diversion, but still far from pleased, Sale retired to a far corner of the
cell and laid his head on his forearms in dejection.
How
wrong he had been earlier when he had thought his day could get no worse. How
was he going to get himself out of this mess? He was not allowed to call anyone
and there seemed to be nothing he could say to prove his innocence. Was this
how he would end up imprisoned for a crime he knew nothing about? He knew how
crazy things could get with the Nigerian law enforcement system: once the
police convince themselves a person is guilty, they do not bother much with evidence,
but go ahead to have him arraigned to court, which most times results in the
accused being sentenced with no hard proof that he had committed the crime he
was accused of. He had heard stories of how they could make a man sign a
confession to any crime after a few hours of “interrogation” in this place.
Oh my God, I can’t stand torture. I
can’t!
He began
hyperventilating as his stomach started turnioniown
with fear, and he became overwhelmed with the urge to throw up. Tears
trickled down his face and he prayed for a miracle to get him out of the mess
he had found himself.
He was still
in the same position half an hour later when the officer returned and muttered,
“Oga wants to see you again”. And he
was half-hauled through the semi-dark passage into the office of the D.P.O.
The D.P.O.
was not alone; with him was a short, elderly man in agbada. “So this is him. Ah, good job, officers. I trust you were
able to recover all the money he stole.” Sale knew he had to be the owner of
the store he had been accused of stealing from.
Clearing
his throat uncomfortably, the D.P.O. responded, “Unfortunately we did not find
the money he stole on his person. But don’t worry, once we are through with
him, he’ll sing like a bird and tell us where he has hidden the loot.”
That
statement was issued with an ominous glance in Sale’s direction which had him
breaking out in cold sweat. There was no doubt in his mind what the D.P.O.
meant. The fear of torture broke him out of his zombie-like state and had him
protesting in a near-squeal, “But I did not steal any money. I wasn’t at your
store today and certainly did not rob you. I swear, I am innocent.”
“Shut
up!” bellowed the D.P.O.
“He has
the effrontery to lie?” The store owner was mortified. “Well, I did foresee
that. These criminals, they never admit
to their crimes even when they are caught red-handed. It’s a good thing that we
have security cameras at the store. I have the recording of everything that went
on there today including the robbery. That would shut his lies up once and for
all.”
With that,
the man dipped his hand into his briefcase and pulled out a CD. He also brought
out his laptop computer. “Officers, permit me to show this criminal the raw
evidence.”
“Yes,
yes, go ahead.”
In a minute,
the CCTV recording was playing for all to see. The store owner skipped many scenes
till he arrived at the time of the robbery and smiled triumphantly as the image
of a man harassing a female cashier filled the screen. “Now, is that not you?”
he enquired of Sale.
“No, it
isn’t!” Sale declared, almost jumping up in joy at the proof of his innocence.
“That man is obviously not me. Not only are his clothes different from mine, he
is as light as an albino, whereas I am the darkest man in this room!”
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