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ALHAJI

“Objection overruled,” the bespectacled judge said again. This case was exasperating. She had allowed the badgering go on, hoping the accused would break down and confess. But it didn’t seem likely to happen soon.

“You were spotted with the victim, Miss Chioma, aged six, on Friday the thirteenth of September at your residence, correct?” the plaintiff lawyer asked again.

“Alhaji,” the accused said, with a lopsided smile, while staring off into space.

“You were spotted by two witnesses, aged six and eight,” the lawyer persisted. “You dragged the victim into your home and molested her, correct?”

“Alhaji.” This time there was a slur and the smile bloomed into a grin, which seemed to say: I know I’m playing dumb and I’m going to walk away with this.

The judge frowned when she saw the smile.

“How do you know the victim?” the lawyer pressed.

“Alhaji,” came the reply, accompanied by another taunting smile.

The judge’s nerves flared. She had seen people like this man go free after such an outrageous crime. She wouldn’t let this one turn her courtroom into a circus.

“Do you deny having intercourse with Miss Chioma?”

“Alhaji.”

Stifled laughter emanated from corners of the courtroom. The judge removed her glasses and rubbed her aching eyes with her thumb and index finger. She could feel her anger brew and bubble like a perturbed bottle of coke.

“Does this seem like a joke, Mr. Desmond?” she asked the accused. Her icy tone sent chills round the courtroom. The smile popped up again and she felt her anger increase. “A fifty-six year old man sleeping with a six year old? Is that funny to you?”

 The man grinned and leaned forward. “Alhaji.”

And then it happened.

Fed up by hours of watching the man’s theatrics and fake senility, the judge lost it. The entire courtroom gasped — “Your honor,” one of the orderlies screamed in dismay — as the judge lifted her dark robes, vaulted over her desk, and lunged at the accused.

Over the sound of the yelling crowd came a sickening crack as her gavel swung. It sank into the man’s head and bright-red blood splashed onto her face. As the courtroom emptied rapidly, the gavel went up and down.

“Stop!” CRUNCH! “Fucking!” CRUNCH! “Smiling!” THUD!

Written by Chuks Chuks


About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

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17 comments

  1. Uhm…..I had to check if Emem wrote this,cos this is her mindset!wow….this is angry person!!????

  2. Udegbunam Chukwudi

    Savage. ????

  3. Thanks Walter. I am most humbled by this.

  4. LMAO. This story again ????

  5. This is on point! If I were the judge, only heaven knows what I’d have done ’cause this is little compared to what’s rolling in my mind now

  6. Hilarious! Evul Chuks.

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