Sarge stood and held out his hands. “Your Worship,” he began, “DNA is not a Western phenomenon. The science of genetics is not only valid in lands where people’s skin is white. DNA is here is Africa, in this courtroom. And in it dwells the truth. The truth offered by DNA is more credible than the testimony of eyewitnesses who can misunderstand and forget. The truth of DNA is more compelling than the testimony of the most competent investigating officer. It is a truth that exists apart from passion and faction, a truth that respects nothing but itself. And in a court of law, where truth and impartiality are paramount, DNA deserves an audience.”
He fixed Kaunda with a righteous stare. “Today, fifty years after our country gained its independence, girls in our cities are not free. They live in fear. They are afraid because they are targets, because some men consider sex with the girl of their choosing to be a moral right. It is up to us—lawyers, judges, keepers of the law—to liberate our children from fear.”
As Sarge took a theatrical pause, Zoe regarded him in admiration. He spoke as if inspired.
“It would be one thing,” he went on, “if the weight of authority stood against the use of DNA in the context of rape. But exactly the opposite is true. Courts in many nations have embraced DNA, and rapists have been sent to jail. The same will be true in Zambia. It would be one thing if the laws of Zambia prohibited the taking of a blood sample from an accused. But they do not. The only thing that separates children like Kuyeya from justice—and freedom from fear—is indecision.”
Sarge raised his voice in emphasis. “Mark my words. One day a decision will be made. One day in this very courtroom DNA will be used to convict the rapist of a child. The only question before this Court is whether today is the day.”
Sarge returned to his seat in the silence of a spellbound courtroom. Benson Luchembe took his time standing up, and his tone, when he began to speak, was unsteady.
“Your Worship, I’m reminded of an old saying. If something is not broken, there is no need to fix it. The crime of defilement has existed in Zambia for decades. The law offers this Court many tools to prosecute it. DNA is not one of them. Our system may differ from the rest of the world, but it is our system. And the system is not broken. There is no need to fix it.”
Over the next ten minutes, Luchembe rehearsed the high points from his memorandum: that Zambia’s Constitution protects a person against unlawful search; that while a court may order a criminal defendant to submit to a medical examination to ascertain any matter material to the proceedings, the word “examination” should not be interpreted to include a blood sample; and that a court-ordered DNA test would not only violate Darious Nyambo’s constitutional rights but would also pave the way for the rights of all defendants in rape cases to be infringed.
The defense attorney’s performance was remarkably lackluster, and Zoe found herself nursing a fleeting hope that Kaunda would grant their application. She looked at Sarge, expecting him to deliver a point-by-point rebuttal, but his reply, when it came, was spare.
“Your Worship,” he said, “the choice before you is not an abstraction; it is a child. Kuyeya deserves justice. This Court has the power to deliver it. I trust you will do so.”
The magistrate nodded. “I thank counsel for your words. As promised, I will take this matter under advisement. Let’s hope the election in a few days is peaceful.”
When Kaunda disappeared into chambers, Benson Luchembe stomped out of the courtroom, prompting a scramble among his staff.
Zoe stood and moved toward Sarge to congratulate him. “That was an argument worthy of the Supreme Court,” she said.
Sarge glanced at the bench. “Somewhere along the way, this case became personal.”
Zoe smiled. “Let’s hope young Thoko feels the same.”
chapter 11
The magistrate’s opinion arrived by email the next morning. Zoe had never heard Sarge curse before, and the sound of it shocked her. He jerked away from his desk. “Kaunda had it written before the hearing,” he exclaimed. “He only pretended to listen to me.”
He stood up quickly and disappeared into Mariam’s office. Minutes later, Mariam called the response team to a meeting. Zoe walked to the conference room with Niza and found Joseph already there. He glanced at her but didn’t speak, his eyes fraught with anger.
After everyone was seated, Mariam said, “The ruling is a setback. We need to decide what to do about it. Joseph, do you have any evidence that Kaunda was corrupted?”
Joseph blinked as if coming out of a trance. “I followed him everywhere. He didn’t meet with anyone from the Nyambo family or Luchembe’s firm. But that doesn’t prove anything. They could have spoken on the phone or by email.”
That’s why I didn’t see you for days, Zoe thought. You were shadowing the magistrate.
“In light of that, we have two options,” Mariam went on. “First, we take the DNA issue to the High Court. Second, we proceed to trial without DNA.”
“An appeal will take months and give Luchembe an excuse to delay the trial further,” said Niza. “There’s no chance that a High Court judge will make an example of Patricia Nyambo’s son. They’ll find a way to rule against us on a technicality.”
Sarge shook his head. “The magistrate has to be compromised. You don’t write an entire opinion on a subject so significant before you hear oral argument.”