Hostile Takeover

Chapter Six

The ambience in the court was tense, everyone in the jury and the entire courtroom eager to learn about the evidence, except Arista and the counsel, who now knew exactly what the evidence suggested. Everyone had been looking forward to the day and they seemed impatient. Mrs. Imela stared wearily at a paper in her hands; Mr. Suseyi was taking some notes.

‘I wonder what Nolan will say?’ Arista thought as he turned in an attempt to locate where his friend was sitting. He locked eyes with Patra instead. She forced a smile, but her face looked so troubled it stung his heart. He forced a reassuring smile, knowing his face was still a mess. He looked around but couldn’t see Nolan anywhere.

‘All rise!’ the bailiff called as the judge strolled in.

She sat at her desk and as everyone sat back down, she started,

‘All the evidence relating to this case has been received from forensics and reviewed. The evidence dictates that Mr. Loma carried no explosives.’ She said,

‘Just wires randomly connected to bars of soap.’

The court was submerged in moderately audible chatter. Some members of the jury looked at each other.

‘There is also evidence that the money stolen from the Noisiv Reserve; all one hundred kwacha notes adding up to six hundred thousand kwacha are counterfeit,’ She said, pausing.

The audience, the jury, the entire court was hysterical, a lot of faces in bewildered frowns. Arista fought the urge to smile so hard; euphoria was rising up his bowels he felt acid oozing out. The judge let them all have a moment to let it sink in before using her gavel as it hard stunned her too upon learning the facts.

‘Order!’ she uttered.

‘Mrs. Imela?’ she called.

The state advocate got up clumsily,

‘I would like to call the accused, Mr. Loma Arista, to the stand.’

When Arista was getting up, he looked at where Mr. Amol was sitting. The old man’s face was red; he knew exactly what was coming.

‘Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?’

‘I do.’ He swore.

‘Mr. Loma, did you know all this time that the money was counterfeit?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

There were a few seconds of silence, then Arista responded,

‘Yes.’

More whispers of chatter in the courtroom.

‘Why did you steal it then?’

‘I didn’t steal the money,’ he replied.

‘Young man, we watched the video footage, we saw you on screen, robbing the bank,’ Mrs. Imela established.

‘When breaking down the robbery statute, four elements must be proven; whether there was intent to steal, whether there was force or violence used or any form of fear instilled, whether a property of value was taken and whether that property of value did not belong to the party that took it am I right?’ he said looking at Mrs. Imela.

‘Exactly right.’

‘Well, the first element of intent to steal is not valid as I do not believe I stole anything.’

The members of the jury were goggling at him.

‘The second element is proven; we can’t argue that there was no violence and no malicious weapon discharged, because I did still instill fear.’ He spoke.

‘Right,’ Mrs. Imela said uneasily, not knowing where it was all leading.

‘The third element, however, is not satisfied, as counterfeit money is not valuable property and the same goes for the fourth: the property. The counterfeit money originally belonged to me, therefore, I couldn’t have stolen it, or are we insinuating that The Noisiv Reserve had counterfeit money in its possession?’ Arista posed, raising his eyebrows.

Mrs. Imela was speechless. The court was silent for moments.

‘What then was your counterfeit money doing in the vault of The Noisiv Mr. Loma?’ Mrs. Imela asked, regaining her composure.

‘The money was not initially in the vault, a friend of mine planted it there the day before.’ Arista spoke calmly.

‘The plan was to plant the counterfeit money, then one of the days, at some point in time, it was going to be discovered that The Noisiv was distributing counterfeit money.’

‘Wait a minute … wait, so you planned to implicate the Company in a crime of counterfeiting?’ Mrs. Imela asked in disbelief.

Arista exhaled,

‘Yes, at least that was the initial plan. I was so angry about how my family had been treated, claiming something that was rightfully ours reduced us to beggars, and I blamed the entire management for the death of both my mother and sister.’

‘But when I slept on it, I started having second thoughts. I thought about the innocents that would go down together with company and that did not sit well with me,’

‘So, I decided to get it back. I asked my friend to go and get it back, but he refused to do so, so I took it.’ Arista narrated.

The courtroom was in a frenzy once again. Mrs. Imela was in shock, on her forehead two wrinkle marks of the sign equals. Mr. Suseyi was as calm as still waters.

‘So, this friend of yours, where is he?’

‘Well, I expected him to be present today, but he happened to have decided to stay back,’ Arista replied.

‘What is his name?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘Nolan Bwalya, he is on the witness list.’ He replied.

‘Mr. Suseyi, where is your witness?’ The judge broke in.

‘I don’t know your honor. I have tried contacting him, and his phone is unreachable. I will find him after the session,’ he replied.

‘You better, this trial has been exhausting and it keeps getting more insane. We need your witness.’ The judge added.

‘Of course, your honor.’

‘No further questions.’ Mrs. Imela finally spoke and went back to her seat in shock.

‘Court recess, we will reconvene here in ninety minutes.’

‘Mrs. Imela, find someone from The Noisiv Reserve who may have known about this. And Mr. Suseyi, find your witness.’

‘Yes, your honor,’ both Mr. Suseyi and Mrs. Imela responded in unison.

...

Patra was juggling a number of thoughts in her head; she couldn’t believe what she had heard from Arista’s mouth an hour ago. She had been with him three years and had never figured him to be capable of such a vendetta.

‘Aunt Maureen, something is wrong with him. Something is really wrong with him,’ she said.

‘Nobody can go through what he’s gone through and come out normal, my dear. Of course, he is troubled and twisted,’ Aunt Maureen replied.

Afterten restaurant harbored most of the people that were present at the trial as it was the closest fast food restaurant in the area to the high court.

‘He needs us, he needs me; I haven’t said a word to him since the funeral,’ Patra said, tearing up.

‘Come on child, you cannot keep crying for him. Besides, how exactly can we help him? I know you love him; you know I am very fond of him myself, but he made a series of choices that has placed him where he is now.’

‘You should make some choices too, choices that will give the baby you are carrying a good future.’ She spoke.

Patra said nothing. In as much as she believed her aunt, Aunt Maureen, was unable to fully grasp her position in the situation, she knew her Aunt was right about one thing though: the need to focus more on the baby’s future.

Moments later they were back in court.

The judge strolled in and everyone stood at the cue of the bailiff. And sat back down as the judge sat. Patra still sat with her aunt, eager together with everybody else to witness the unfolding fiasco of the case before them.

‘Alright, let’s get right to it.’

‘Defense, your witness?’ she asked.

‘Yes, your honor,’ Mr. Suseyi spoke,

‘I would like to call Nolan Bwalya to the stand please.’

Nolan stood up two rolls behind him. He looked weary, and terrified. He was wearing a black pair of jeans and a checkered green and white shirt tucked in.

‘Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?’ The bailiff did his thing.

‘I swear.’

‘Mr. Nolan, would you say that Mr. Loma, your friend, is an Islamic extremist?’ Mr Suseyi asked.

‘I can tell you, sir, Arista may be an extremist, but he is not Islamic,’ Nolan responded.

Gasps built up again.

‘But his appearance during the robbery suggested otherwise; the costume, the language.’

‘Islam is the most feared religion on earth,’ Nolan started,

‘I’m sure he posed like that to be feared and taken seriously.’

‘To the extent of learning the Arabic language?’

‘The words tanaul tamak al-ladhidh; do you not know what it means?’ Nolan asked.

‘No, do you?’

‘It means eat your tasty food.'

'A sentence he undoubtedly got from the Arabic restaurant we had near campus, his goal was simply to use the Islamic prototype the world has created as a weapon.’

The Jury shot glances at one another.