The Garden of Burning Sand

“I’m sure everything will sort itself out,” Sarge replied. He guided David through the lobby, and Zoe and Niza followed them, stifling grins.

The air in the arcade was oppressively hot, but the breeze afforded some relief. Zoe saw Benson Luchembe and his flock of defense lawyers in their usual huddle, this time outside Courtroom 10. Instead of standing with them, Frederick Nyambo was resting nearby on a bench, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. He appeared less imposing off his feet. The hubris was there in his steel-gray eyes, but he looked like a man contemplating the limits of his power.

Zoe entered the courtroom and found Joseph waiting for her on the front bench. She smiled and sat beside him. The defense team filed in just before ten o’clock. Ever the professional, Luchembe took a seat at counsel table, his expression neutral.

Soon, the door to the judge’s chambers opened. The middle-aged man who ascended to the bench was a study in contrasts. He had the imposing frame of a linebacker and the avuncular visage of James Earl Jones. At first Zoe didn’t understand the significance of his presence, but when she heard his name spoken by one of the defense lawyers, her heart skipped a beat.

Flexon Mubita. The Principal Resident Magistrate himself.

Mubita sat down and took off his round spectacles, wiping his nose bridge. “Hello, Sarge, Benson,” he said in greeting, his rich, resonant voice echoing in the courtroom.

At that moment, another door opened, and the courtroom deputy led Darious into the dock. Zoe had not seen him in the month since the initial hearing. His eyes were still bright, but his frame looked more skeletal than gaunt and his face and neck were marked with lesions.

“I summoned the accused,” said the judge, “because I was not the one who read the charges at the initial hearing. He should know the magistrate who will decide his case.”

When the words hit Zoe’s ears, she felt a thrill unlike anything she had experienced in an African courtroom. Mubita had not only removed the case from Thoko Kaunda’s hands, he had taken it upon himself to see that justice was served. She glanced around at the ashen faces of the defense lawyers and could not help but smirk. The reversal of fortunes was monumental.

Benson Luchembe stood slowly. “The defense is delighted to have such an august judge handling this case. But might I ask what prompted Your Worship’s personal interest?”

“I assign cases by lottery,” Mubita responded simply. “My name was chosen.”

Luchembe hesitated, then sat down in a huff, shuffling papers.

The judge folded his hands. “I have reviewed the status of this case and the orders entered thus far. I have also reviewed the prosecution’s application to reconsider the question of DNA. I believe the matter is weighty enough to merit reconsideration, and I will do so on the briefs. You should receive my decision within a week.”

Luchembe leaped to his feet again. “Your Worship, with all due respect, Magistrate Kaunda heard argument from counsel and wrote a very thoughtful opinion, taking into account the weight of Zambian and foreign authorities. There is no need to review the issue.”

Mubita raised his eyebrows. “I will give proper deference to Magistrate Kaunda’s decision, but I will be trying this case. I intend to decide all issues that bear upon the trial.”

Zoe clutched Joseph’s arm, barely able to contain her excitement.

The judge, however, was not finished. “There is also the matter of the trial date. I’m disturbed to see that the trial is not scheduled until next December. With child witnesses, this is unacceptable. The Court has dates in March and early April. What is counsel’s preference?”

Luchembe could not contain himself. “Your Worship, I explained to Magistrate Kaunda that my calendar is booked until next summer.”

Mubita narrowed his eyes. “You have a first-rate staff. I’m sure you can manage.”

Luchembe glanced at the floor, looking trapped. After a pause, he opened his calendar. A brief negotiation ensued, and the judge set the trial for April fifth and sixth.

Mubita then turned to Darious. “Does the accused need clarification before we proceed?”

Darious gave the judge an insolent look, and their eyes locked like horns in a bullfight. The silence dragged on, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. All at once, Darious lost his composure and looked at the floor.

“Since everyone is satisfied,” Mubita said, a trace of amusement in his voice, “this Court is adjourned.”

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