Chapter 14: Chapter 14

As early as four o’clock on the day after her arrival in Accra, Rita has already woken up, done her toiletries and prepared to hit the road running. The hiring car was also ready for the journey to Akuse, where Jobson Martinson has been incarcerated. Jobson was on death row at Akuse Maximum Prison where hardened criminals and inmates condemned to death are put in solitude awaiting execution. During Jobson’s trial, the judge gave the jury the option of imposing death sentence or life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. However, at the end of the trial the jury came with a unanimous decision of death sentence because every clue linked up to Jobson calling and using the Uber services. No one believed him that it was Koryo who took the Uber home. Maybe the only odd one was Ama, who would stop nothing from making sure that Jobson was set free. Now that the jury had agreed on death sentence, the defendant will remain on death row during appeal and habeas corpus procedures.

Rita sat at the back seat of the car observing the beautiful scenery along the Accra-Akosombo trunk road. She could not remember anything along the way because her mind was preoccupied with the plight of Jobson. She saw glimpses of travelers either stopping to do window shopping or haggling with sellers to buy assortments of bush meats, snails and crabs. Virtually anything eatable can be found along the way: mushrooms, plantains, cassavas, cocoyams, palm fruits, mangoes and oranges. Even so, Rita did not see anything meaningful that day, as she journeyed into the land of the unknown quietly brooding over her nightmares. Two hours later they were at Akuse Maximum prison built on the lower Volta area surface of 68,600 square kilometres between Kpong Dam at Akuse and the Ada Estuary. The aim was to make it difficult for runaway inmates or jail breakers to swim the 90 metres deep Volta lake reservoir to safety. Even if they survived the lake, they risked being attacked by the following wildlife at the wet shore: elephants, lions, leopards, buffalo, water buck, hartebeest, crocodiles, pythons and clawless otter.

Jobson Martinson lived and spent up to 23 hours a day alone in an eight by twelve foot cell with virtually no human contact or exposure to natural light. He was allowed to leave his cell a few times each week to shower or exercise alone in a similarly-sized mesh cage and was forbidden from making physical contact with visitors. As a new convict he was automatically and deliberately placed in solitary confinement, whilst appeal was going on, until he showed clear disciplinary records, before he will be moved to an area that allowed for more out-of-cell time, received visits from family and friends, engaged in outdoor group recreation or enjoyed better job and educational opportunities.

At exactly 10:04 in the forenoon, Rita was ushered into the office of the Director of Prisons at Akuse Maximum Correctional Centre. Bill Gyamfi stood up from his chair and offered his right hand to meet Rita. “Hello, Madam, you are welcome into my humble office.” Rita smiled and reciprocated the gesture. “Good Morning, Sir.” My name is Rita Martinson, a Swiss citizen.” Bill’s face beamed when he heard Swiss. He tried to be a little friendly. “Oh brilliant, I have been there before. I was in Neuchatel, where they had stored gold bullions. Which part of Switzerland do you come from?” Rita was still indifferent and yet tried to answer the Director politely as she could. Who knows, maybe this man will be her son’s saviour, she guessed. “Okay, that is nice. I come from Vevey. Indeed I am here because of my son Jobson who is being confined here.” “Yes, yes, yes, Jobson. I knew that case. In fact, Rita, I must confess that where the case has gotten up to is beyond my powers. Your best bet is to get a very good lawyer to make an appeal with a fresh and important point of law at the highest court of the land, the Supreme Court; probably he might get a reprieve on execution and perhaps change the sentence to life imprisonment or something else.” Bill sermonised. Rita seemed to be interested since it opened an avenue of hope for her son. She then quizzed him for more leads. “But my reason for coming here is to see my son. Can I see him then?” Bill responded quickly. “No, the rules of the game do not permit that for now.” These words hit Rita very hard. She sat speechless for a moment. After organising her elements, she pleaded with Bill Gyamfi to consider her plight with regards to the issue of flying over 3000 kilometres down here to achieve nothing. She felt that it was unnecessary to argue with Bill on that line. After all, in a civilised society laws and rules are made to be obeyed. She left the Director’s office very disappointed; however, she was determined to soldier on. After all, quitters do not win and winners do not quit, the wise saying goes. So far she had not made any progress, but she was convinced that there was light at end of the tunnel. Was she on a fruitless journey, considering the time, energy and money she had spent to come to Africa? All these costs meant nothing as compared to the life of his son, whom she had, grew to love so much. But so far, all her efforts had come to Cosine 90°. She hurriedly left Akuse for Accra. She did not want to do anything to attract suspicion or incur the displeasure of the Prison officers, since the place was a high security zone.

From Akuse, she went straight to Switzerland Embas-sy in Accra to meet the Chargè d’Affaire. After thirty minutes of hot discussion, the Chargè d’Affaire at the Embassy assured her of the Embassy’s total commitment towards helping her find a very good lawyer to make a good case for appeal in the Jobson’s case. More so, before she left the Chancery, she was able to make contact with one Gregory Donkor of Event Channel Limited. They agreed to meet at the pool side of Ebony Royal Hotel between eight and nine o’clock on the said night. Rita then went to her hotel room at Airport city to relax and wait for the date that evening.

In the meantime, at the other side of the city where Event Channel Limited was located, fourteen minutes after five in the evening, Gregory Donkor tidied his desk, locked up his office and went home to prepare for his evening date. In front of the house, Greg tooted the horn of his car, for Ama to come out to open the gate. He drove in to park the car. He greeted Anastasia who was leaning by the parapet at the corridor, but there was no response. Tension! There was serious tension in the house. Greg went inside, changed his office outfit and went straight into the bathroom. He stepped into a casual blue and white stripped smock on a black trousers and black shoe to complete the match. He sprayed the ‘scent of Africa’ perfume on his attire and drove out of the house without uttering a word to anyone as to where he was going. Indeed, the Donkors’ home was getting interesting: mistrust and suspicion are daily norms. There was silent war going on and no one knew how it will end.

Immediately after Greg left, Ama and Anastasia followed in a taxi trailing him to Ebony Royal Hotel at Airport City in Accra. There were couples of people seated at the pool side of the hotel. Some were relaxed drinking, others were at far having party or get together. Rita was seated at the end of the pool sipping Apple juice. As per their earlier description Greg walked straight to her; greeted her and pulled a seat close by a shaded tree. There was no time to waste. Rita did not wait for Greg to be served before effecting her mission. “Mr. Gregory Donkor.” She said. “Uhuuh” Greg respond-ed. Rita removed a group picture of herself and friends snapped just before they left her flat to the Homecoming Dance over thirty years ago. Warly Warly stood at the extreme left followed by Allison, then Bridgette before Rita. “My name is Rita, a former student of European University, Montreux campus in Switzerland. These were my friends. Sir, can you please identify any one of us in this photograph?” She gave the photograph to Greg. It was a colour picture which has faded over the years. Gregory Donkor looked at the photograph silently for a while and then nodded his head. He pointed his index finger at Rita’s portrait in the picture and said. “Time has passed under the water, but I can remember Rita vividly. This is you during those days. It seems to me that you have not changed much. Indeed almost all the people in this photograph looked familiar.” Greg placed the photograph on the table, clasped his two hands together and used his thumbs to support his chin. He tried to study the details of Rita’s facial expression. He said calmly. “Rita, I am glad to meet you after a long time. But tell me, what are you doing here?” Rita smiled faintly to the question. Gradually she has trapped Greg into her snare. It was about time she sprung out and hit the nail right on the spot. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. “Greg, I am here because of your son.” Greg was startled to hear ‘your son’. “Rita, please what are you saying? I have only one daughter. That is it! Yes, it is true that I studied at European University for my Master degree. You were not my girl-friend: just an acquaintance, a school mate for lack of a better phrase.”

Rita calmly prodded further. “Truly speaking, you are hundred percent right about everything you have just said. But do you remember what happened at the basement of the 20 storey flat at 14th Fontainebleau Avenue during the 1992 Homecoming dance? If you do remember, then I must say that the end result was a son named Jobson Martinson. He came down to Ghana to look for his lost father and finally ended up in a case that has landed him in deep trouble. In fact, as I am speaking he is in absolute solitary confinement in a condemned cell in Akuse in Ghana here.” The following words from Rita hit Greg very hard. He did not know how to start or move from here. Finally he said. “Well Rita, what can I say? It looks like I have heard about the Jobson case, but whether I am the father and bla, bla, bla of a condemned son; I have nothing to say now. I believe DNA and legal overtures will help in due course.” Rita quickly snapped in. “Are you by these denying the fact that the event took place?” “No, no, no! Do not misquote me. It seems time is far spent. I will catch up with you tomorrow by noon for us to look at the way forward with this Jobson’s case.” Greg said finally as he stood up to part company with Rita. Rita nodded in the affirmative, finished her apple juice and left the pool side.

But when Greg left the place and was walking to his car, Ama switched off the phone she was holding to record the conversation that took place between Greg and Rita. Together with Anastasia they continued to trail the most important man in their lives to his car. They hid behind the trees where the car was parked. Greg sat in the car, picked his phone and made a cache of text messages to a number owned by somebody called KILLER. The text message read “Killer,” he wrote. “It is too dangerous to sell the car now.” He put the phone down and sped off.