Thursday, September 21, 2017

Courthouse Blues

I write this post from a courthouse. Nearly two years ago, a young man plundered my property. The evidence was firm: among other things, it included his own confession. But the police refused to take a statement and open a case, in fact on high authority. Once I was over that (major) hurdle, and an investigation was complete, I was subpoenad once, then twice to testify in court, more than 100km distant. But the trial was aborted both times, because (so said the police) the prosecution had removed the evidence from the docket. Both times, the accused stood in the dock and blinked and was dismissed. Six times, police removed investigators from the case (but they reappointed one officer twice) -- not through my own doing. Last week I was subpoenad a third time. I checked with police. Everything was in order, they said, and a high ranking officer confirmed that I should be there. But this morning, even before the police took the roll call, the prosecutor called me in. He showed me the docket. The police had failed to comply with his written instructions. In big red letters in the docket was the line: “What is going on here?!” I was free to go, he said. OBSERVATION: The accused may have been complicit in a search and seize raid, too, in which my personal notebooks and my late wife’s ashes were removed, among other things. But the evidence in that regard rests on a single towel found next to his fireplace. The towel had been in the same location as the items seized. So, what is going on here?

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